Lost Soul
by Imaginos1892
Summary: AU. It was a crater, and a woman with long purple hair stood in the middle. She didn't know who she was. She couldn't remember where she came from, or how she got there. The police didn't know what to make of her, and when they tried to arrest her she flew off with breathtaking speed, leaving only a kiss. All Daniel Evans knew was that the world would never be the same again.
1. An Unexpected Arrival

This is only loosely based on Date A Live. How might such an event play out in our world?

* * *

 **An Unexpected Arrival**

It was a warm and sunny Sunday, and he'd felt like taking a motorcycle ride. After a leisurely twenty minutes he was cruising through a light industrial area, scattered small businesses in one- and two-story buildings on both sides of the road. Familiar territory; he'd traveled through here hundreds of times.

Up ahead, familiarity ended. Something was wrong with the street. He pulled the clutch and hit the brakes; he'd been riding long enough to be wary of unexpected road conditions. He downshifted to first gear and saw that the pavement was broken up for at least thirty yards ahead. He had almost stopped a few yards short of the edge when the engine died.

He frowned and pushed the starter button. Nothing happened. He checked, and all of the little lights were dark. He turned the ignition key off, then on, and tried again. Still nothing. He clicked the bike into neutral and looked around. The broken pavement cut across the road at an angle, through the curb and across most of a parking lot off to his right.

He tried the ignition and starter a couple more times, growled a few Very Bad Words, got off his machine and pushed it into the parking lot, backed into one of the remaining intact spaces, flipped down the kickstand and rested the bike on it. He tried the ignition and starter again, with no better results. The motorcycle seemed to be completely dead. He grumbled more Bad Words.

On the road behind him a car drove up to the broken area and stopped. Fortunately, there wasn't much traffic this morning. He pulled out the key and stuck it in his pocket, took off his helmet and set it on the right saddlebag, then took a longer look at the damage zone.

It appeared to be a shallow crater, over two hundred yards across and maybe ten feet deep in the middle. Within it trees, cars, buildings, pavement, even the ground itself were crushed, smashed, mangled and churned. Outside it, nothing seemed disturbed. The boundary cut through at least two buildings and another one was completely gone. Nothing was sparking. There was a whiff of gas in the air, but no rushing or roaring noises so nothing major was leaking. He'd never seen or heard of anything like it, and couldn't imagine what might have caused it.

Somebody was standing in the center. The figure looked like a woman with long purple hair, wearing a dress with a wide puffy skirt, holding something long and thin in her right hand. In another parking lot across the crater and to the left were two police cars. She was facing toward them. She took a hesitant step to the right, away from them, and a shot sounded. She flinched, and stopped. She didn't appear to have been hit, but her shoulders slumped, and her head bowed a little. From the back, she looked utterly dejected.

What the hell was going on? He'd nearly forgotten his annoyance with the stalled motorcycle, his attention consumed by this new mystery. Something had _chewed_ a big bite out of the neighborhood. He was familiar with a number of phenomena that could make holes in the ground, but this didn't square with any of them. An explosion would have blasted tons of debris out of the crater. A collapse wouldn't have torn everything to pieces and flung them about. What sort of force ripped fifty-foot _trees_ apart and left their splintered remains within a well-defined boundary? What could remove part of a building without affecting the remaining structure?

When did it happen, whatever _it_ was? There was dust over everything but none in the air, and two police cars on the scene, so it had been at least five or ten minutes ago. Not much longer, or there would be more. More police, the fire department, ambulances and paramedics, bomb-sniffing dogs, water department, gas & electric company — even on a Sunday the place would be swarming within half an hour. So far, though, there were only creaking and grinding noises from the damaged buildings, a gurgle of leaking water, and rattles of falling pieces.

He walked up to the rim of the crater. It was a sharp edge, a drop of about a foot, with only bits of debris on the undamaged area. He examined it carefully, then cautiously stuck the very toe of his boot across the line. Nothing unusual happened. He raised his foot, slowly put it completely across the rim and set it down. It felt…exactly like stepping onto crushed parking lot. There was a gravelly crunch as he put weight on it. The second step was equally anticlimactic. Whatever had happened here appeared to be over. All that remained was the crater and…somebody.

She had to be connected to it somehow. Two unusual events, at the same place and time? The police obviously thought so. There were at least two of them, taking cover behind one of their cars, all their attention focused on her. They didn't seem to be accomplishing anything, they didn't seem happy about it, but they couldn't seem to think of anything better to do.

His attention returned to the woman. Why was she just standing there, looking miserable? Why didn't she drop that thing and raise her hands? Why weren't the police making more effort to arrest her, or demand that she surrender, or at least talk to her? Nothing about the situation made any sense, and things that didn't make sense really bothered him.

'The Elephant's Child is strong with this one' somebody had said to him once, and it was true. He had a wide range of interests, and what he didn't know, he tried to find out. Nobody could know everything, of course, but he liked to say that he knew _something_ about _almost_ everything. That Most Insatiable Curiosity had gotten the Elephant's Child into a lot of trouble, but it was also behind just about everything we know. Without it we'd still be living in caves and getting eaten by leopards.

His own inner Elephant's Child was fully awake now. He wanted to know what was going on, and it looked like there was only one way to find out. The cops would just tell him to get lost, and they didn't seem to know much anyway. The only obvious source of any answers was the woman. Most people would consider approaching her stupid, even insane, but was it? She wasn't doing anything to the police, and they were shooting at her. Why would she be a threat to someone who wasn't attacking her?

He walked cautiously out into the crater. The phenomenon had left chunks of buildings and vehicles here and there, and he used them to stay out of sight of the police. They certainly wouldn't approve of what he was doing. He stopped about twenty feet from the woman, beside the nearest object — a piece of roof propped up by a half-crushed air conditioner. He could see her clearly but she hadn't noticed him; all her attention seemed to be on the people shooting at her. No surprise. Any sounds he made had been lost in the general background noise of settling wreckage.

She looked really good up close. Just about his own height, curved in all the right places, with nothing un-human about her except her very long vivid purple hair. She wore a fancy purple, black and silver outfit that looked part armor, part dress with two-layer translucent skirts, metallic-looking purple-and-silver gauntlets and boots, and a hair tie that looked like a white, purple and black butterfly on top of her head. White light shone from her skirts, and parts of her dress. The thing in her hand was a four-foot longsword with edges made of purple light, its point nearly touching the ground.

She raised her head and lifted the sword a little, and there were two more shots. This time, he saw two bursts of purple sparks in the air in front of her. She had a force shield. His suspicion that she came from somewhere _else_ grew to a solid conviction.

He was certain that nothing like this had ever happened before. Somebody, somewhere would have said something, and there would be a whole raft of web sites about Mysterious Craters With Hot Space Chicks In The Middle. Every aspect of the situation would be irresistible to UFO fanatics and conspiracy-theory nuts alike. Or, if the conspiracy nuts were right, and the government was keeping this Extra Secret, they'd have whipped up _some_ sort of response by now, something a bit more comprehensive than a couple of cops and their sidearms. He looked around. The sky was blue and clear, not a Black Helicopter in sight. No convoys of black SUVs raced down the roads. Nobody was calling those cops and telling them to do more, or less, than what they were doing.

Hard as it was to believe, this had to be a genuine First Contact.

He'd had misgivings all along, but now his misgivings were starting to have misgivings. Even the Elephant's Child was having second thoughts. Had she done — whatever — to the landscape? How would she react to him sneaking up behind her? Should he just sneak away before she noticed? It would be the safe move. He thought about that. Then he thought about something else.

Whatever he did, in the next minute or two, would change the world.

 _If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice._

The line from an old Rush song ran through his head. This wasn't what Geddy had meant, but it certainly applied. Backing out, leaving the decisions to somebody else, was a choice. Was it the right one? What made him qualified to change the world?

Well, what made anybody else qualified? It wasn't like anybody anywhere had any experience with this situation or anything like it. What were the Job Qualifications for First Contact With Purple-Haired Space Babes? He was drawing a blank.

And, 'somebody else' was another cop-out. It would be the government, and like any good American, he didn't trust the government. Government is all about power and control. Its purpose is to force people to do things they don't want to do. Some of that is necessary — criminals won't stop robbing and murdering if asked nicely. But you have to give that power to people. Most people with power want more, and desperately fear losing what they have. Not all of them, of course. Good people go into the government too, but they either become part of the system or it spits them back out.

Did he really want the government to decide what to do with her? She had power, and they would want to control her. Could they? He didn't think the police could, and they didn't seem to think so either. If she really had made this Chewed Crater, the Army probably wouldn't fare any better. If they couldn't control her, they'd want to destroy her. Could they even do that? And if they really, really pissed her off, what could _she_ do to _them_?

What if she was some sort of emissary? An ambassador, or a scout, or even a scientist, here to assess the natives? What kind of impression should she get of our world? What impression would the government give her? They'd certainly done a great job so far; they were shooting at her. Could he possibly make a worse decision than that?

Okay, what _were_ his qualifications? He was well above average intelligence; he was a computer engineer and general tinkerer. A problem solver. He thought about things. Most people wouldn't even be standing here right now. He wasn't refusing to accept the implications of what he saw right in front of him; that alone put him ahead of over ninety percent of the human race. And, he'd been reading and watching science fiction for more than thirty years.

He'd contemplated the ideas of the world's most original thinkers, some of them on this very subject. Most of them were pretty smart, and the best were genius class. He at least had some really good ideas to work with, and he also knew a lot of _bad_ ideas to avoid. He wasn't hog-tied with a load of policies and regulations written by micromanaging bureaucrats convinced that they Knew Everything and nobody else knew anything.

Besides, there were really only two possibilities.

If she came here with hostile intent, we were probably screwed. She had some very advanced technology, and she wouldn't be here alone. Bullets had no effect on her, and most modern weapons are essentially bullets. They destroy targets by smashing chunks of metal into them. Some use more chunks, or bigger chunks, or smash them harder, but that's about it. Our only non-bullet weapons are some pretty pathetic lasers, poison gas, and The Bomb. He doubted that lasers would work against soldiers armed like her, and even if gas or atomic bombs would stop them, we would have to use them on our own cities. We might as well just let ourselves be conquered.

If she wasn't hostile, it was absolutely imperative to avoid _making_ her hostile. Shooting at her was not a good way. Locking her up wasn't a promising approach, either. The government, composed of people accustomed to solving problems with force, prone to panic over any threat to their power, would insist on one or the other. Once they decided she was a challenge to their authority, they would never be able to back down. Every time they failed to put her under their control, they'd feel compelled to reach for a bigger hammer. In the end, he was pretty sure an atomic bomb would be as useless against her as a .45 ACP, but the Bigger Hammer Bunch would never believe that until they tried it themselves, at least once.

Somewhere along the way, he had made up his mind. He wouldn't leave this to those who sought power over other people. He would do his best, and hope it was the right thing.

He took off his sunglasses, put them in his pocket, and called to her. "Who are you? Why are they trying to kill you?"

She turned and looked at him, startled, and took a step back. She had a striking, exotic beauty. Her eyelashes and eyebrows were a darker purple than her hair, her purple eyes a shade in between. At least her lips weren't purple, but a lovely deep pink. He couldn't make even a wild guess at her age beyond 'probably about thirty'.

Her expression was of despair and loss, now turning to fear. She raised the sword between them, but it didn't take a master to see that it was a defensive move, not an attack. Apparently the police didn't know even that much. Three shots, three purple flashes in the air beside her.

He lowered his voice. "Do you understand me?"

Her lips moved, silently, then stopped. She tried again.

"Do…you…kill…me?"

Her voice was as beautiful as the rest of her; sweet and warm, rich and clear. The words, however, were halting, disconnected, as if they were her first words in English. Or…her first words, ever.

He shook his head. "No! I am not going to hurt you. I don't want anybody to hurt you."

He wasn't sure she understood completely, but she seemed to get the idea. Her look of fear faded.

"I don't think you want to hurt anybody, either."

"No. I…don't want…to hurt…anybody." Her delivery was smoother this time, but still hesitant.

"I believe you." Strangely, he did. He smiled at her. "I think I can help you. If you'll let me try."

Her expression changed again, now hopeful but cautious. "Help me," she pleaded.

She seemed to believe him, too. There was a kind of innocence about her, a sense that she told the truth, and trusted him, because it simply never occurred to her to do otherwise. So much for any lingering doubts that she came from another planet.

He peered around the roof section, at the police. From here he could see there were three of them. He nodded decisively. "Yes, I'll help you. We need to get them to stop shooting at you." His eyes narrowed. "They don't just shoot for no reason. They sure as hell don't _keep_ shooting. And that one's got an AR-15."

He looked at her. "Did you do something they might have seen as a threat, or dangerous?"

She seemed uncertain, and embarrassed. "I think…yes. They," she waved her left hand in a beckoning gesture, then pantomimed holding a pistol.

He said slowly, "They approached you, holding guns. Pointing them at you. Yelling at you to drop the sword, put your hands on your head, and surrender. Or something close to that. And you didn't understand one thing they were saying."

She nodded. "I," and lifted the sword just a tiny distance, "they shoot."

"You raised your sword toward them, and they started shooting. You've got some sort of force shield around you, right? It blocks their bullets somehow. I see sparks when they hit it. Your shield stopped the bullets, but you would have been surprised, maybe scared."

She nodded again. "Force shield, yes. Blocks bullets, blocks…sparks?" She gestured with her left hand.

He thought and said, "You mean energy?"

She nodded. "Yes. Energy…not bullet."

"Directed energy weapons, like a laser? Um, a coherent photon beam?"

"Yes, directed energy. Laser and, not laser."

"Other kinds of energy weapons that are beyond our primitive technology," he mused. "Then you did something that made them back off, and hide behind their police cars?"

She nodded again. "I did something to the gun." She pointed at a black lump lying on the ground thirty feet away. "Then, one other thing." Her confidence and speaking ability grew with every sentence, and she seemed to understand almost every word the first time she heard it. Either she was a hundred times smarter than anyone he had ever heard of, or she was getting some high-powered A.I. assistance from…somewhere.

"OK, what 'one other thing'?"

She looked embarrassed. "They hide behind the cars, and I…" She made a chopping motion with her free hand.

He took a harder look at the police cars and saw that the far one was…wrong. The ends didn't match up. The hood pointed upward at an angle, and the trunk pointed up at a different angle. It took a few seconds to make sense of it — the car had been neatly sliced in two on a slight diagonal and fallen down in the middle. While the cops were using it for cover. No wonder they were freaked out.

"They took cover behind that police car, shot at you, and you split it in two. From here. Bet that got their attention!"

She just looked more embarrassed.

"That might complicate things." He chuckled. "I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time."

She grimaced. "No idea, no think, just do. Good, not."

He looked at the cops again, then returned to her. "Can you expand your shield? To keep the bullets away from me, too?"

She gave him a little smile. "Yes."

There was a barely-visible shimmering in the air and a faint prickling sensation.

He took a deep breath. "I guess it's showtime. Could you lose the sword? I think it makes them nervous."

She looked at him uncertainly. "I don't want to lose—"

"Sorry. Slang expression. I mean put it down, or something, so you look less threatening."

"Yes." With a single quick motion she swept the sword around, as if sliding it into an invisible scabbard at her left hip. Two shots, two flashes, several feet farther away this time. The sword had disappeared completely.

He was astonished, and speechless. He finally managed to say, "Neat trick." He added, "I think you've got something that's bigger on the inside."

She looked at him, confused.

"Never mind." Trying to explain Doctor Who, right now…no way.

He moved out nervously into the line of fire. He trusted her, could _see_ her shield stop the bullets, knew they probably wouldn't shoot anyway, but it was still one of the hardest things he had ever done. He stepped directly between her and the cops, and spread his arms straight out. There wouldn't be any point yelling at them; they'd all be half-deaf for a while. He swung his right hand in front of his face, palm forward, and waved it up and down. If he remembered right, it was an Army signal for 'cease fire'.

Maybe it was, maybe they didn't want to hit a civilian, maybe they were just tired of shooting at her without effect, but they held off. He waited long enough to be sure they weren't just reloading or taking better aim, then gave them a big thumbs-up. That one was pretty much universal.

"Hey, I think it worked." He turned around just in time for her to run into him, almost taking them both to the ground. She threw her arms around him and squeezed with unexpected strength.

"You help me, you help me…" She was almost exactly his height. She was trembling and there were tears in her eyes.

His arms were around her before he had time to think. Any uncertainty was erased when she sighed and… _snuggled_ against him. Her arms relaxed a little. He had held women before, but never one who felt so completely _right_. He hoped that she really was as human as she seemed.

"Move away from the suspect, sir!"

Of course it couldn't be that easy. They had decided she was a suspect, even though there was probably nothing specific she could be charged with. Well, besides that old catch-all, resisting arrest. That wouldn't matter to them. It was for the courts decide her guilt or innocence; their job was to haul her off to jail no matter what it took. They would always reach for the Bigger Hammer. He didn't see any easy way out of this.

Even so, he had to try. He let go of her and tried to step back, but she held on. He belatedly realized that her armor and gauntlets were gone. She must have sent them wherever her sword went. What else might she have stashed there, and what was 'there', anyway? A parallel universe? Some sort of pocket dimension? Out of phase? A few microseconds ahead or behind in time? Various scientists and authors had speculated on many ways things could be there-but-not-there.

That could wait. He reached down and tugged at her arms. "I need to go over there and talk to them. All right?"

She shook her head. "Don't go away."

"Okay. Let's both go talk to them."

She thought it over. "And you don't go away?"

"No. I'll stay as long as you want me to."

She hugged him tight, then stepped back and smiled. He thought she'd smiled before, but that was because he'd never seen a real one. Her dress was pleasingly form-fitting without the armor. She took his breath away, his head floated, and all he could do was stare at the most beautiful girl in the world — well, in some world, anyway. Stay with her? There was nothing he wanted more.

"Now move away!"

That yanked him right back to earth. "Is your shield still on?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Keep it on." He held his hand out to her, and after a few confused seconds she mirrored the gesture. Her neatly tapered fingernails were bright purple, of course. He smiled, and took her hand in his. "Let's go talk to them. I just don't know if it'll do any good."

He turned, and shouted, "Let's talk about this!"

He started toward the police, and she walked beside him after a short delay. Her hand was warm, and felt perfectly normal to him.

He lowered his voice. "I don't think I can get you out of this. I promised to help you, and I'll try, but I don't think it will be enough. They want to arrest you and put you in jail, and they're not going to listen to me."

She thought that over for a few steps. They walked past the lump she had indicated earlier, and he saw that it had once been a plastic-framed automatic pistol, probably a Glock. It was hard to tell because it was partially melted. She squeezed his hand and waved her other one at the surviving police car. "Can that…" she made a swooping, ascending motion.

Her question surprised him. "You mean, can it fly? No. Strictly a ground vehicle." He chuckled. "Flat ground, at that. It's meant to run on pavement," he kicked at the rubble, "like this used to be."

Now she had a cunning little smile. "They can't arrest me."

She had surprised him again. "You mean you can fly?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He gave a short laugh. "Well, why not? Force shields, vanishing energy swords, what's a little flying?" His amusement faded. "But, why didn't you fly away?"

She gave him a sad look and gestured vaguely. "Fly away?"

He understood. "Of course. You don't know anything about our world. You've got no place to go." They were approaching the police, who watched them warily.

He told her, very quietly, "Don't let them capture you. If we can't get them to let you go, you fly away. Leave me here. I'm a citizen, I've got rights, and I haven't broken any laws. Even if they arrest me, don't interfere. They can't hold me very long. Promise me that, please."

She just looked stubborn.

He insisted. "Please. Fly away, and don't try to help me. If you did, I really would be in trouble, and I wouldn't be able to help you at all. Will you do that for me? Trust me?"

She finally answered, reluctantly, "I…I will."

He squeezed her hand. "Thank you." They kept walking.

"That's close enough!" The cop closest to them yelled, louder than necessary; as he thought, shooting at her had done a number on their hearing. His name tag read NELSON and he appeared to be in charge.

They stopped. He'd been about to stop anyway. Officer Nelson had a notebook and pen out, the other two still held a pistol and the AR-15 on them.

"What's your name, ma'am? Let's see some ID."

She looked at him, then back at the cops, opened her mouth to reply, and stopped. She stood there frozen for several seconds. "I…I don't…know." Now she looked confused, and lost. She gripped his hand, hard. "I don't know!"

The officer looked extremely skeptical, but turned to him. "Do you have ID?"

"Yeah." He started to reach up with his right hand, then stopped. "Just getting my wallet."

The cop nodded. He pulled the wallet from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, then found himself in a pickle. She didn't seem inclined to let go of his hand, and it would be impossible to remove his driver's license without it. To hell with it. These weren't some third-world federales; they'd leave his money and credit cards alone. He tossed his wallet onto the car trunk.

"It's in that flip-up thing. Yeah, there."

He looked at it, took it out, and wrote in his notebook. "Daniel Evans."

"That's right."

"Forty-one years old."

"Don't remind me."

Nelson half-smiled. "Is this your current address?"

"Yep. Twelve years. I hate moving."

He wrote some more.

"How do you know the suspect?"

"I don't. You just saw me meet her for the first time. Ever."

He looked at their hands, even more suspicious. "If you don't know her, why is she…cooperating with you?"

"Because I talked to her instead of shooting at her? Just a guess, of course."

Nelson scowled at him but kept writing. He mentally kicked himself. _Don't be a smart-ass. Not helping._ That wouldn't be easy. Sarcasm came as naturally to him as breathing.

"And she didn't tell you her name."

Dan shook his head. "We're still working on basic communication." _And getting you to stop shooting at her_. "We haven't got around to introductions."

The officer turned back to her. "What's your name? Where did you come from? What are you doing here?"

She squeezed his hand, shuffled closer and pressed against him. "I don't know."

Dan said, "Hey, take it easy. She doesn't know much English."

Nelson turned to the officer with the AR-15. "You give it a try."

She looked at him, then back to the purple-haired woman and demanded, "Quien eres tu? Que haces aqui?"

She just looked confused and repeated, "I…don't know?"

Dan turned to her. "What she just said was in a different language. Don't get it mixed up with English, the language we're using now." He looked back at the cops. "I think she's from a lot farther away than Mexico." _Yeah, a few dozen light-years farther!_

The third cop spoke up for the first time. "I know some Italian."

Dan waved his hand frantically at him. "No, no, you'll just confuse her! You're not going to find anybody that speaks her language."

Officer Nelson looked up from the notebook to bestow a dubious look upon him. "How would you know?"

"Call it…an educated guess." He tried to look at them appealingly. "Look, will you let me try talking to her? I've been doing pretty good so far. I'll try to get her to tell you what you want to know."

He looked at the other two, and when they didn't object, returned his attention to the woman. "All right. I'll let you give it a try."

Dan nodded. "Thanks. Ask your questions, and I'll try to explain them to her."

Nelson looked at the purple-haired woman and asked, "What is your name?" very slowly and distinctly.

She turned to Dan. "Why did police talk…like…that?" She mimicked his tone and pacing perfectly.

"He thought it would help you understand what he said."

She looked…put out. "Did police think I do not understand?" She sounded testy, too, and looked back at Nelson. "I understand, but I do not know. I know what a name is, but I don't know _my_ name." Her longest statement yet revealed a slight accent, like nothing any of them had heard before.

Dan added, "I think she's trying to tell you she's not stupid."

She smiled at him. "Yes! Thank you." She turned back to Nelson. "Not stupid, just much things I do not know."

"Well, what _do_ you know?" he snapped, frustrated.

"That I'm here. That I don't know what _here_ is. That I don't know who I am…" she shook her head. "That is all."

Dan said, diffidently, "Do you mind if I ask her some questions?"

Nelson looked at him, even more frustrated. "Go ahead. Maybe you can get something out of her."

He smiled at her and asked gently, "You're trying your best to answer us, aren't you?"

She gave him a strained smile back. "Yes, but there is so little I know, so much I do not know."

He squeezed her hand and looked at her reassuringly. "I think the biggest question they have for you is, did you do," he waved a hand at the Churned Crater, "this?"

She shook her head. "No." She thought for a few more seconds. "I do not think so."

"Did you see it happen?"

She shook her head again. "No. It was like this when I first saw it."

He had a sudden thought. "Was there a lot of dust in the air, when you first saw this?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes! Dust. The air took it away…" she waved a hand eastward.

"Then you must have been here very soon after it happened."

She nodded thoughtfully. "That is…" She gestured vaguely.

He chuckled. "A logical conclusion?"

She nodded decisively. "Yes! Logical."

His voice was gentle again. "What did you do, when you found yourself standing there?"

Her sad, lost look was back. "I didn't do anything. What could I do? I look, but saw not a thing I know."

"What about before? What do you remember, before you were standing there?"

"I…" She frowned, concentrating. "I do not remember anything before."

"But… you had to be somewhere, before you were here. You had to get from there to here, somehow."

"Yes, that is logical." She was still frowning. "But I do not remember any other place, or how I was put here."

Nelson looked impatient, and Dan started to feel a little desperate. "Is there anything you can remember, anything you can think of that might help?"

"No." She looked at him helplessly. "I think I must be not from your world. This place is not right to me, there is not a thing I know here. I do not know how I come to be here, or why."

Officer Nelson frowned. "Aaannnd now she thinks she's E.T. I've heard enough." He snapped open a pocket on his gunbelt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "You're going to have to come with us, ma'am."

Dan's stomach fluttered with anxiety. "What are you arresting her for? What could you even charge her with?"

"Resisting arrest." He pointed at the sectioned police car. "Destruction of government property."

"You were shooting at her! She panicked!" Dan waved his hand at the crater, feeling a little panic of his own. "She didn't do this. She doesn't want to hurt anybody. She's just lost, and scared, and more alone than you could possibly imagine. She doesn't need to be thrown in a cage with a bunch of violent criminals."

Nelson made his way around the police car, cautiously. "Move away from the suspect, sir."

Dan tried one final entreaty. "You don't have to do this. Please, can't you just let her stay with me? I'll take full responsibility for her. She won't break any laws, and she won't go anywhere."

Nelson gave him a hard look. "Are you trying to interfere with me, Mr. Evans?"

He did his best to look defeated. It wasn't hard. "No. Of course not." He looked at the woman's tense face, then back at the officer, and swallowed nervously. "Will you let me try to explain this to her? Tell her what's happening?"

"Make it fast."

Dan looked at her and shook his head sadly. "They're going to arrest you. They don't want to listen to me. He's going to put your arms behind your back and lock those handcuffs around your wrists, stick you in the back seat of that car, drive you to jail and lock you in a cell. They'll use force if you don't cooperate, and they might even shoot you. I'm sorry I can't be any more help."

She glared angrily at the cops, then turned, wrapped herself around him and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth insistently. It felt very good, but he got an impression that there was more to it than just the kiss. She finished, and her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, "Thank you for your help, Daniel. Now I can find you."

She stepped back, looked up, and shot into the sky. In seconds she dwindled to a tiny dot and disappeared.

They all stared up after her until they heard three loud **POP** 's from the crater. They turned, and saw sparks falling in three places, rising wisps of smoke, a flickering blue-white glare and a loud crackling, buzzing noise to their right, and a final bright flash near the far edge accompanied by a much louder **POP**. They watched nervously, but the fireworks seemed to be over.

"What was that all about?" the second policeman asked.

"Wiring, shorting out," Nelson informed them.

"Yeah, but why now?"

Nelson shook his head. "Don't know."

The woman cop turned to look at Dan. "Where did the suspect go?"

He frowned at her and pointed. "Up!"

She wasn't amused. "Where is she going?"

He was still frowning. "I don't know! How would I know? You threatened her, and now she's gone."

"She said something to you. What was it?"

"She thanked me." He let his expression mellow a little. "And said she's sorry. About everything."

Officer Nelson looked at him. "What else did she tell you?"

"Not much. You heard everything, too. I needed more _time!_ She was talking to us, and I thought I was making progress."

Nelson huffed. "Well, I didn't, and we have a job to do."

Dan sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You've got your rules and procedures and you have to follow 'em whether you want to or not. Trouble is, this time they were all wrong."

The cop looked up, then back at him. "Why are you here? How did you get involved?"

"Was riding down Balboa and had to stop because the pavement's all busted up. Then my bike stalled, and wouldn't start. I pushed it into a parking lot, took a look around and saw—" he waved at the Crater, "—this."

"Where were you going?"

"Just out for a ride. It's a nice day." He looked eastward, then back. "Probably would have wound up out on Old 94."

Officer Nelson now looked at him very sternly. "Why did you step out into our line of fire? That was stupid, and can be considered obstruction or interference with law enforcement. Those are serious crimes."

He said, carefully, "Well, I saw what was happening. She was just standing there, and I thought she looked scared and confused, so I went out and talked to her."

The second male cop asked, "Why didn't you talk to us?"

He chuckled nervously. "You would have just told me to buzz off."

All three cops chuckled back. Nelson said, "Go on."

He continued, "I asked her what she was doing, and after a few tries she said she didn't want to hurt anybody, didn't mean to do anything wrong, and didn't know where she was or what was happening. I believed her. I thought if I could get you to stop shooting at her, it would make the situation better."

Dan looked back and forth at all of them. "I was just trying to help." It was true, too, only _they_ weren't the ones he was helping. "I _did_ get her to put the sword away, come over here and talk to you."

Nelson sighed, seeming to concede the point. "And then she," he shook his head in disbelief, "she flew away."

He gave the man a commiserating look. "Nobody could have stopped her from doing that. Who would have even thought of it?" _I wouldn't, if she hadn't told me._

Nelson shook his head again, conceding that point as well. "Are you sure you don't know where she's going?"

Dan shook his head too. "I really don't. How could I? _She_ doesn't know where she's going. She's got no place _to_ go." He looked around at all of them. "She lost her memory. She's never been in this country before. She's lost, and alone, and scared. I don't know what's going to happen to her."

The woman cop grumbled, "If we're real lucky, she'll go back to wherever she came from."

He looked at her. "If she can."

Officer Nelson gave him a shrewd look. "What do _you_ think she'll do?"

"Me? Hmmm." Dan looked up at the sky thoughtfully. "Probably get away from the city. Away from people." He looked around at them. "Away from cops, for sure. After that? She didn't seem to be carrying any food or water, so she'd have to find those. Place to sleep, eventually, unless she can sleep while she's flying." He thought some more. "Long term, I just don't know. Fast as she took off, she could be in Mexico in ten minutes. Then she'd be their problem."

"If she got across the border."

Dan chuckled. "I don't think she'd have much trouble. The Border Patrol is not really equipped to deal with flying women." He shrugged. "I guess the short answer is she could go anywhere, and there's not much anybody could do about it."

She _could_ go anywhere, and he had no way of knowing where, or finding her. He clung tight to one bit of hope. _Now I can find you._ What did she mean? Had her kiss tagged him somehow, like a wild boar? He almost cracked a silly grin, but caught it in time. No, no, no. They couldn't be allowed to suspect that she might return to him. He had to be helpful, but resigned and uncertain. They would keep an eye on him anyway, just in case. Anxious as he was to see her again, he hoped she would stay away from him for a while.

They were all interrupted by unintelligible words from inside the surviving police car. The second man yelled, "The radio's working!" He opened the front passenger door, jumped inside, picked up a microphone and started talking excitedly.

Nelson opened the driver's door, got in, and started typing on the computer. "Huh. Computer's up too." He looked _very_ relieved.

"The radio wasn't working?" Dan asked.

Nelson flapped the notebook. "Why do you think I'm scribbling in this? Radios, computers, cell phones, everything was down. Now it's all back."

Dan mused, "She must have been emitting some kind of interference, and now she's out of range. Probably didn't even know it was happening."

Nelson looked unconvinced and continued typing, referring to the notebook. He read the computer screen, working through several pages of data, then looked up. "Clean. Not so much as a parking ticket. You're a regular Boy Scout."

Dan said with some annoyance, "I stay out of trouble. It's not that hard."

Nelson scowled sourly. "It is for some people."

"Hmph." He thought about that. "And they'd be the ones you have to deal with all the time. That explains a lot."

The officer was still scowling. "Explains a lot of what?"

"Your attitude. You expected lies, so when you heard…unusual things you just assumed we were lying. You got any idea how frustrating that is?"

"Hah. You're telling me about frustration?" He got back out of the car and shut the door. The other guy finished with the radio and got out too.

Dan grimaced. "I suppose. None of us got many answers, here." He looked around at all of them. "But not believing the truth is as bad as believing lies."

The other two cops scowled some more, but Nelson looked thoughtful. After a minute he mused, "Then what is the truth?"

Dan snorted. "Probably not what any of us think it is."

Nelson fixed him with another shrewd look. "What do you think it is?"

Dan said cautiously, "Do you really want to know? Will you listen, and think about it, and not just instantly say 'Bullshit!'? 'Cause it's gonna sound pretty far-out."

Nelson looked up, then back at him with a grimace. "I'd be surprised if it _didn't_ sound far-out. Hell, I'd be disappointed."

Dan chuckled nervously. "Well, I'm not going to disappoint you." He looked around at all of them again. "Don't get pissed at me if some of this is wrong. I'm sure some of it _will_ be wrong, and I don't even know which parts. I don't really _know_ any more than you do. This is all based on deduction, speculation, and a lot of wild-ass guesses. You still want to hear it?"

The other two moved closer. He could see that the woman's nametag read MORALES, and the other male cop was ROZZA. They both looked suspicious, but interested, and all three nodded and made positive noises.

Dan took a deep breath and blew most of it out. "Awright. I'm going to start by assuming she told us the truth." He waved down their protests. "I know, I know, you're convinced it was bullshit, but think about it. She _flew away_. She could have done that any time. Did she need to lie to you? And if she did want to lie, why that one? If she didn't want to make you suspicious, amnesia wasn't the best choice."

There was general agreement on that point, and a few guffaws. He continued, "So let's assume she was telling the truth, and then let's assume she was right about not being from this planet, and see where it goes." This time he didn't even try to suppress the protests.

After a minute Rozza summed it up. "So you think she's an alien."

He shook his head. "No, I think she's completely human, but she came here from some other star system—"

He interrupted nastily, "Yeah, well, how about the _**flying?**_ She's gotta be from Krypton!"

Dan chuckled. He'd already thought about this. "I don't think she's Supergirl. I think she's got some sort of device or machine that lets her fly."

"I didn't see anything."

"It might not be anything we'd recognize. She could be wearing it under her dress, or maybe it's woven _into_ her dress." _Or it could be implanted into her body. Best not to mention that. Supergirl is one thing, but I don't want 'em thinking she's the Terminator. Besides, she's way prettier than Ahnold, or even Krystanna Loken._ "Wherever she came from, they've got technology we've barely started to dream about."

Rozza's voice was completely flat. "Technology that lets her fly like Supergirl."

"And a lot of other things. Where did her sword go? That armor she was wearing?" Morales grumbled something, but that was all. "I was watching when she did…whatever, with the sword. It was there, and then it just _wasn't_. I'm sure she can bring it back just as easy."

Morales asked, "Back from where?"

Dan shook his head. "I don't know. Some writers have ideas, some scientists have theories about alternate dimensions, time displacement, phase shifting, but we don't _know_ of any way to make things just…not be there."

Nelson said, "But you think she does."

"Well, whoever built the tech she's using did. Before she lost her memory she might have known, or not. You just used a computer, how much do you know about how it works? Could you explain it to a caveman?"

That made Rozza think, and worry. "Caveman? You think they're that far ahead of us?"

Dan shrugged. "Maybe ancient Roman. Thing is, she's got stuff that's so advanced we can't even guess how it works, or what it can do."

"But you still think she's human." Rozza sounded half-convinced now.

Dan nodded again. "Did you see anything non-human about her? I didn't. Except the hair, and we've got women right here dye their hair purple." He didn't mention his own conviction that her hair color owed nothing to dye. He laughed. "She didn't even have pointy ears, so she can't be an elf or a Vulcan."

Nelson had gone the other way, and looked even more skeptical. "How do you know she's not an alien and just looks human? How would you tell?"

Dan did his best to look positive, and convincing. "Because of some very well-respected theories that say there's no such thing as parallel or convergent evolution. Put simply, it means there's no reason for aliens, evolved on an alien planet, to look like us. _Maybe_ sorta like us, but exactly? No way. Why would their faces, and their ears, be shaped exactly like ours? Why would their arms, hands and fingers be precisely like ours, with identical articulation and exactly the same proportions? They wouldn't. And as far as I could tell, she's _completely_ human."

Rozza said snidely, "Oh, was that what you were doing? And here I thought you were just feeling her up. You've got the hots for her. Admit it."

Dan laughed. "Jeez, didn't you? She looked like Salli Richardson with purple hair. Don't try to tell me you weren't checking her out."

Rozza cringed as Morales laughed at him, forcing him to admit, "Yeah, okay, maybe a little." He cracked a sly grin. "Besides, she looked like Mila Kunis." That gave them all a chuckle.

Nelson got them back on track. "Okay, so you think she's human, and you think she's from outer space because she's got some fancy gadgets."

Dan raised one eyebrow, just like Spock. He'd taught himself to do that when he was twelve years old. "Ever see somebody from this planet just up and fly off without an airplane?" He pointed to the divided car. "Ever see anything like that?" He waved at the Crushed Crater. "Or that?"

They looked, too, and grudgingly admitted that they hadn't. He continued, "And I saw something else, up close. How many times did you shoot at her? Ten? Fifteen? And completely missed, _every time?_ Do you believe you're _all_ such lousy shots?"

This time they growled resentfully, defensive. Dan shook his head. "You didn't miss, the bullets did. Something stopped them before they hit her. Every time you shot at her, there was a purple flash in the air the size of a silver dollar." He added derisively, "That's a real Eisenhower dollar, not one of these new things that's the size of a quarter."

"What are you saying?" Nelson sounded like he had a pretty good idea, but wanted to hear it.

Dan nodded, acknowledging the straight line. "I'm saying a force shield. Deflector shield. Whatever. An invisible barrier that stops dangerous stuff from getting to her. I asked her about it, and she said it stops lasers and other directed energy weapons too. We didn't discuss what other kinds of energy weapons she meant. I asked her to expand it around me, before I stepped in front of her."

Officer Morales got it immediately. "So you were inside her…shield."

"Yep, I was perfectly safe." His mouth twisted. "It was still scary as hell." That got silence, and maybe some grudging respect.

She frowned. "But how could she be from outer space, if she's really human? It's a, a, paradox, that's what it is! It can't be."

Rozza nodded. "Yeah, you can't have it both ways, either she's from Earth, or she's from outer space. Can't be both."

Nelson looked…patient, and didn't say anything.

Dan held up three fingers. "I see three ways a real human being could come here from outer space. They're all pretty common themes in science fiction—"

Rozza snorted derisively. "Sci-fi? Star Wars? Now I _gotta_ call bullshit—"

Dan cut him off in turn. "You see anything today that _wasn't_ science fiction?"

Morales snickered, Rozza made a grumpy sound, and Nelson looked at him inquiringly.

He took their reactions as an invitation to continue. "Okay, the first one is the Lost Empire scenario. There was an advanced civilization in the distant past that sent people out to the stars and then vanished, leaving no trace of its existence, at least nothing we've ever found. There are a lot, a whole lot of reasons to rule it out."

He didn't give them time to object. "Second one is the Lost Colony. Our distant ancestors came here from some other planet, lost their technology and their history, and we just _thought_ we were always here. The fact that our DNA is closely related to every other form of life on this planet from monkeys right down to bacteria kind of shoots that one in the head, too."

None of them were trying to interrupt now. "Third one is Human Transport, where a small number of people somehow got taken to another planet hundreds or thousands of years ago, and she's one of their descendants. That's the one I'm going with." He chuckled. "I think it's the least impossible possibility, anyway."

"How could they get to another planet?" Rozza sounded a little bewildered.

Dan shrugged. "It could be some sort of natural phenomenon we don't know about, or aliens could have done it."

"Now you're bringing in aliens, without any evidence," Nelson sounded _very_ skeptical.

"She came from somewhere, somehow," he insisted. "If she came from our world, where did she get technology that must be thousands of years ahead of ours? If she didn't, where _did_ she come from, how did she come to be there, and how did she get here? I think aliens are the least impossible explanation."

"Why would aliens take people to another planet?" Morales asked.

He shook his head. "Don't know. There could be a lot of reasons, but I remember a line in an old science fiction story: 'Thing about aliens is, they're alien'. We might never understand why they'd do things."

"But you think that's what happened," Nelson said.

Dan spread his hands in bemusement. "I can't think of anything that's not even more impossible."

They were interrupted by the arrival of three more police cars that parked a short distance away. Nelson pointed. "Rozza, go tell them thanks for the backup, but the suspect's gone. Have them set up a perimeter, and see what they can do about getting SDGE and the water department out here to shut off the gas and water. We got leaks, big ones."

Rozza nodded and trudged off, accompanied by crunching noises. Dan looked at the ground, then waved at the Crater. Water was beginning to collect in the middle. "I've got some ideas about that, too. I don't think she came here in a space ship. I think she was teleported. Not like they do in Star Trek, where they turn you into energy and send you down on a beam of light. I'd say it's more like Stargate, some sort of interdimensional transposition, where they connect two distant points in space, only they didn't need a gate on our end. I'm not sure why it made such a mess, though."

Now they both stared at him like they might be mentally measuring him for a straitjacket. He held one hand up, placatingly. "Hey, I said far out, remember? You all agreed." That got nods and chuckles, if not complete acceptance. Officer Morales looked like she could still be contemplating the straitjacket. Neither of them came up with any specific objections to such a load of weirdness.

Encouraged by their silence, he went on, "Well, that covers 'what' and 'how' so here's my wild-ass guess about 'why'. I think she wound up here because something went really wrong."

They both looked thoughtful at that, Nelson in particular, but neither of them objected. Dan continued, "Nothing about her being here makes any sense. Why would she be sent _here?_ What's here that she, or anybody, would want? _She_ didn't even know why she was here, and she's completely alone. She's got no backup, no support, no supplies, no contact with her people, and no clue what she's supposed to be doing."

Now Morales had an objection. " _If_ she was telling the truth."

"Yeah, if." He nodded agreement. "I told you why I think she was, but you have to make up your own minds about it."

Nelson suddenly looked suspicious again. "If she lost her memory, why does she still know how to use her gadgets?"

"She probably trained and practiced with them until she didn't have to think about it," Dan speculated. "Have you ever heard about people with amnesia who can still, oh, play the piano, or juggle, or some other acquired skill? It's a different kind of memory, a lot harder to lose."

"If you say so."

Dan shrugged. "Look it up on Google. Anyway, that's what I think. Even if I'm wrong, it's a place to start."

Nelson summed it up. "You think she came here from some other planet, by mistake, with gadgets and weapons like we've never seen before…and you think she's human. You think you understand her."

"I'm sure she's human. That makes her as easy to understand as any other woman." He gave them an ironic chuckle. "Meaning, hardly at all."

He snorted at that. "You don't think she's a threat."

" _You_ threatened _her_ , you _shot_ at her, but she only fought back once," he pointed at the split car, "and she told me she regretted it. She didn't kill anybody, or even hurt anybody. She could have killed all of us easily, but instead she flew away."

That gave Morales another thought. "She's got a sword that can chop a car in half from a hundred yards away, a force shield, a flying…something, who knows what else — you think she's some sort of soldier?"

Dan chuckled. "Maybe she was a secret agent. 'Bond. Jane Bond.' Super-spy from outer space." That got them all chuckling. After it died down he asked, "What now?"

Officer Nelson studied him critically for a long minute. "You've been pretty helpful, and I don't think you _know_ any more than you've told us. You got here after we did, so you're not even a witness. You don't plan to leave town any time soon, do you?"

He shook his head. "No. I'll be here."

"Then I don't see any reason to detain you," Nelson concluded. He glanced at Morales, but she didn't disagree. "We might have more questions for you later, though."

"I'll give you the best answers I've got," he promised. "If you find her again, and you want my help, I'll do anything I can."

He nodded. "You are aware that if she contacts you again, you're required to report it."

Dan looked at him curiously. _The way you phrased that, I don't think you expect me to actually do it_. He responded with some careful phrasing of his own. "I'm the only person in the whole world she trusts, and I'm supposed to use that against her. To show her that she can't trust anybody. What kind of person would I be, if I did that to her?"

Nelson made another oblique statement. "If you don't cooperate with law enforcement, you can be charged as an accessory."

"If I turned her in, and somebody tried to arrest her, what do you think would happen?"

They all looked at the sectioned car and Nelson said reluctantly, "Nothing good. If they were lucky, she'd just fly away again."

Dan asked them, "Wouldn't it be best if we could resolve these problems and get her out of trouble with the law, so nobody _needs_ to arrest her? That's what I'd like to see."

Officer Nelson scowled sourly. "I'm sure a Jane Doe warrant will be issued for her by tomorrow. If somebody wanted to get her out of trouble, they wouldn't have much time." He was clearly aware that Standard Police Procedures wouldn't be much use against a woman who could stop bullets, or just fly away if she felt like it.

"That's a problem, considering none of us know where she went, or how to find her," Dan groused. _My only hope is that she finds me. Although if she's still jamming cell phone signals, that could provide a way to track her._ They were sure to think of that, but just in case they didn't, he wasn't about to bring it up.

Morales didn't react. Nelson looked at him speculatively, but didn't say anything. _He thinks I know more than I'm saying, but I don't think he's going to call me on it. It looks like he's going to wait, and see what happens_.

"Still going on your bike ride?" was what Officer Nelson finally asked.

Dan frowned. "If the damn thing starts. If not, I'll be dealing with a dead bike. If it does…it's still a nice day, and now I've got a lot to think about. Either way, I should be home this afternoon."

"You'll need this." He picked up the wallet and driver's license and held them out.

"Thanks." Dan slid the license into its holder and put the wallet back in his inside jacket pocket. He looked around, and then up. "Kind of hard to believe that all actually happened, now."

Both cops chuckled without humor and Nelson tapped the squarish black camera on his chest. "Got the proof right here." Morales nodded agreement. He looked around and said resignedly, "Well, we've got a…a scene to deal with. Maybe not a _crime_ scene, but it's sure as hell a _scene_. Good day, Mister Evans."

He nodded. "Bye." They all turned and walked away.

Dan thought furiously but uselessly on the walk back to his motorcycle. There simply wasn't _anything_ he could do towards finding the purple-haired woman. This zone of destruction was their only point of contact, and she wouldn't come back here. If the bike started, going for a long ride would be no more or less constructive than anything else he could do. She would have to find him. If she wanted to.

His motorcycle sat in the parking space, exactly where he'd left it. The car that had stopped in the road earlier was gone. He got on the bike, stuck the key in the ignition switch and hesitated, nervously wondering what would happen. The usual lights came on when he turned it. He pushed the starter button, it cranked for a few seconds and the engine fired right up.

He grinned and chuckled with relief. Putting the sunglasses and helmet back on took less than a minute. Shifting into first gear, he rode to the driveway and looked both ways before deciding to backtrack and avoid going through the edge of the crater. Old 94 still sounded good, and there were a number of other ways to get there.

He mostly stayed off the highways, preferring the larger secondary roads. Traffic was pleasantly sparse, and half an hour later he was cruising at a comfortable speed through the rural hills, the tranquil morning disturbed only by the occasional speed demon, or small groups of them, zooming past on their overpowered 'rocket bikes'. Once upon a time, that might have been him, but these days the notion of speed just for its own sake held little appeal. He stayed to the right side of the lane to give them room; no sense risking a collision.

His thoughts still churned ineffectually, keeping him from finding the relaxation that had been his original intent. He couldn't stop trying to think of a way to find the strange woman, even knowing that there was nothing he could do. It was an insoluble problem but he couldn't help picking at it.

As he rounded a curve, he saw somebody standing beside the road up ahead. He hit the brakes just as a gust of wind caught long purple hair. He pulled off the road and stopped a few feet from her. She had changed from her fancy glowing dress into a near copy of his own clothes. Black leather jacket, dark blue pants, even a feminine version of his motorcycle boots. Her blouse was purple, instead of green like his shirt. She gave him a dazzling smile as he dropped the kickstand, shut off the engine and hopped off the bike.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

As you may have noticed, this is not really Date A Live. I took some of the basic ideas, and went in a different direction. The main character is similar to Tohka, but she's not the same. Her background is completely different, and her powers come from a different source. She can't do some of the things Tohka does. Her hair is a much brighter purple, instead of almost black. She doesn't have _any_ culturally-programmed responses to social situations, because she doesn't have any memories.


	2. A Second Contact

**A Second Contact**

Daniel stopped two steps in front of her, grinning uncontrollably. "You found me!"

"I said I would."

"I was worried you wouldn't be able to," he admitted. "Or that you'd forget. Or…change your mind."

"That could never happen," she assured him. "I want to find you, very much. I want to stay with you."

"That's what I want, too," he said, relieved. "It might not be easy, but I'll do everything I can to get the law off your back, so you won't have to worry about the police any more." He gave her a hopeful smile. "So we can be together."

"Daniel…I…" She stepped forward and put her arms around him again, and it felt even better than the first time. "I think I was alone, for a very long time. I do not want to be alone…"

He returned her embrace. "You're not alone. I'm here."

"Mmmmm…" They held each other until a car rushed past and the wind stirred her hair again.

He saw it, and his brain restarted. "We've got to hide that hair."

"You don't like my hair?" She pulled away from him, sounding disappointed, and hurt.

"No—" he started, then corrected himself hastily, "I mean, yes, I like it, but we can't let anybody see it. It's too…distinctive."

"Distinctive is…not good?" she asked, puzzled.

"Not while the police are looking for you," he told her. "You have to blend in, and not be noticed. Everybody will notice your hair." He went on, "Good job on the clothes, though. That dress was distinctive, too." He paused, then added, with a hint of suspicion, "Ummm… where did you _get_ those clothes?"

"I thought about…look like you," she said uncertainly. "Like…citizen, from your world. My dress…change, to this."

He couldn't help it. He chuckled and said, "You've got a Chameleon Circuit. In your dress."

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"Never mind. It would take a _lot_ of explaining." He chuckled again, and added, half to himself, "But stay away from that Police Box setting, just in case."

She gazed at him, more baffled than ever. He smiled and shook his head. "Silly joke. Ignore it."

She nodded uncertainly, then reached down, pulled up a handful of her hair and studied it. "On your world, no one has hair like this?"

"Well, I've seen a few women with their hair dyed purple, but never one with the color that…pure. It's really striking."

She smiled hesitantly. "Striking is…good?"

"I think it's very good," he reassured her. "But it's kind of inconvenient, just now. Makes it harder for you to hide, and we have to hide you while I try to get your legal problems straightened out."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I made trouble for you. I didn't mean to."

"That's not your fault!" he said, emphatically. "You haven't done anything wrong, and I'm helping you because _I_ want to. You don't need to apologize to me, for anything."

"Then, thank you." She smiled again. "Thank you, for all you are doing to help me."

He returned her smile. "Not a problem. Now, I think the first order of business is to get that hair under wraps. Will you take off the jacket?"

She raised her hands a little, then stopped and looked at him helplessly. "I do not know how."

"Uhhh…then how did you put it on?" he wondered, then shook his head slightly. "Never mind. Will you let me do it?"

"All right."

With a closer look he saw that her jacket only resembled his; a lot of little details were different. The zipper was almost identical, though, and worked exactly like any other zipper. The waist belt and buckle were familiar, too. She watched everything he did with great interest, and slid her arms out of the sleeves when directed. Her short-sleeved blouse looked just as ordinary as the jacket, a darker purple than her hair, with normal-looking buttons and the top two open. It fit her perfectly, and he had to resist a certain temptation to stare.

Everything looked, felt, and reacted just like he would expect. It wasn't some sort of optical illusion; her dress seemed to have transformed into regular Earth-type clothing, accurate in every way he could discern. He gathered her hair behind her neck and down her back, then helped her put the jacket on over it. He reached for the zipper, but she pushed his hand aside and said, "Let me do it."

She took both sides in her hands and examined them, then slowly fitted the parts together and pulled the slider half-way up. She gave him another brilliant smile. "It worked!"

He was impressed. "You figured it out, just from seeing me unzip it one time."

She buckled the belt on the first try, too. He unsnapped the collar tabs and flipped the collar up, hiding a bit more of her conspicuous hair. He unbuckled the chin strap of his helmet, took it off and held it in front of her.

"Do you think you could do that 'look like' thing again, and make a copy of this helmet?" he asked. He really didn't know if such a thing was possible, but maybe…

She examined the helmet intently as he turned it over in his hands, then closed her eyes. Purple light glowed around her head, hiding all but her face, and when it faded she wore a dark blue helmet very similar to his silver one. It even had the same aftermarket quick-release buckle attached to the strap. Any details of how the helmet was manifested had been concealed by the light. Her hair was now completely under cover.

That left only one last detail. He took off his sunglasses and held them up. "Now, can you copy these? Your eyes and eyebrows are kind of distinctive, too."

This time the glow covered her eyes, leaving her wearing a pair of mirrored sunglasses. "Ah! This is good. Before it was too…" She trailed off, unable to complete her sentence.

"Too bright, is the word you want," he supplied. She _had_ been squinting a bit, now that he thought about it. "It's bright for me, too. That's what sunglasses are for. Of course, yours serve a second purpose by hiding your eyes from people we don't want seeing them."

"Do I look good now?"

"No, actually," he said with a smile. She looked like just another attractive woman, which he thought was a loss. "I like it much better when I can see your eyes, and your hair, but for now we have to hide them from everybody else. Not for too long, I hope."

"How will you…get my legal problems straightened out?"

"You just had to ask that, didn't you?" he said ruefully. "I _could_ say I haven't quite figured it out yet, but that would be uncomfortably close to a lie. I've got hardly any idea at all. One thing I do know is, the longer we wait the worse it gets."

Three more cars passed, one after another, going the opposite way. "Here, we should get moving," he advised her. "People are going to wonder who we are, and why we're standing here by the roadside. Somebody might think we need help, and stop."

"You are right," she agreed. "We need to do things. Standing here, we don't do anything."

"Why don't we go for a ride?" he asked cheerfully. "Seeing as we're dressed for it and all."

She smiled again. "I would like that."

He put his sunglasses and helmet back on, walked over, got on the bike with practiced ease, and flipped up the kickstand. "Come here, and stand beside me." He reached back and pulled down the passenger foot-pegs. "Put your hand here," he guided her left hand to his shoulder, "pick up your right leg and swing it over to the other side. That's it. Sit on the seat behind me, put your feet on those pegs and hook the heels of your boots behind them. Like that. Now hold on to me."

He started the engine, checked again for traffic, pulled out onto the road and accelerated. As he shifted into fourth gear and leaned into the first curve, he was startled by a loud shriek from the woman behind him. Before he could slow down, or react otherwise, she squeezed him tight and yelled, " **OOOOOH** , this is _**good!**_ "

"You're right, it is fun." He was relieved that she hadn't been screaming in panic, then remembered that she flew like Supergirl. It would take more than some primitive ground vehicle to scare this lady.

"Fun!" she repeated loudly over the engine noise. "I like that word." She was silent for several seconds, then continued in a lower voice, "I need to know word. All of your word. There is so much I can't tell you because I do not have the right word."

He nodded, then took his left hand off the grip long enough to pat her arms. "I'll help you with that, too."

He shifted to fifth and swept through more curves. She quickly caught on to leaning with him, holding on tight and making occasional sounds of pleasure. She seemed thrilled by the ride, and enchanted with the passing scenery.

 _I sit behind you, and hold you in my arms. This vehicle ride is fun. It feels like when I fly. I see your world. All of these things are good. I feel good when I am close to you._

He was enchanted with _her_ , and not just because she was beautiful, and looked to him for help. She was unlike any woman he had ever met before. She was open, and direct, and said exactly what she meant, as far as her growing vocabulary permitted. She was eager to learn any new thing she could, and relate it to what she had already learned. She never asked the same question twice. She listened to what he said, without picking every word apart under the assumption that it contained some sort of sinister hidden meaning. He'd once dated a woman who'd seemed determined to take everything he said in the worst possible way. That did not go well with sarcasm.

He felt her arms squeeze tighter for a second. He didn't see her determined, and somewhat frustrated, expression.

 _Language is [word I do not know] to thought. I can find now some of the place where word I do not have should be. I will ask you for the word for things I can't tell now, or think well. I know you will help me, Daniel. I…I feel [word a lot bigger than good]. I want that word, so I can tell you._

She was surprised, and a little alarmed, the first time two motorcycles raced past them, but took her cue from his blasé attitude. After that she watched them with mild curiosity. A few taunted the 'slowpokes', offering the pretty girl 'a real ride'.

 _Laugh it up, squid-boys_ , he thought. _I'm riding with the most amazing woman in the world, and you're not. Your juvenile antics_ _won't impress **her**_ _ **!** You can't go half as fast as she does_.

* * *

Dan straightened out from another curve and said, "It's getting on to lunch time. You want something to eat?"

They'd been riding for almost an hour, exchanging occasional comments over the wind and engine noise. He'd turned around in Potrero and they were headed west now, retracing their path. She'd been excited to recognize Dulzura when they passed through the place again. It was the first time he'd ever seen anyone get excited about Dulzura.

Now she tightened her grip on him. "Eat, yes. I feel…"

"Hungry," he supplied. "Empty belly. Right?"

"Yes, hungry. How do we…" She ran out of words again.

"Hmmm. I'm afraid it won't be anything fancy. You can't take your helmet off in public, so it has to be drive-through." After a short wait he went on, "I passed a McDonald's on the way out here. I guess that's the best I can do for now."

"It will be good, with you." He could hear the confident smile in her voice.

He chuckled. "It'll be McDonald's, anyway."

They rounded another curve. She pointed. "Look! I was standing there."

"You're right," he agreed a few seconds later. "That's where you found me again."

She folded her arm back around him, held tight and kind of shimmied a little. So did the motorcycle. Several curves later she asked, "How long?"

"I think it's about ten or twelve miles so, fifteen to twenty minutes. Probably."

"How long…is that?"

"Ugh. I'll have to explain how we measure time," he groaned. "But later. Twenty minutes is a lot less time than we've been riding." She seemed satisfied with that.

 _I **am** hungry. I've been hungry for as long as I've been in this world. I can't remember any time I was not hungry. I did not know what it meant. I did not know how to stop it, before you tell me 'eat'._ She began to see more made-things close to the road, and more vehicles were all around them. They all stopped, then moved, then stopped again. She tried not to let it confuse her. They moved toward a large thing of bright color, behind some cars.

Dan pulled into the drive-through lane behind half a dozen cars. After a minute, they moved forward a few yards. Eventually they stopped in front of the large menu sign and, after a few seconds, heard a distorted voice. "Can I take your order?"

"Right. Two hamburgers, NO cheese, one 20-piece chicken nuggets, two large fries, one large vanilla shake, one large strawberry shake."

After a short delay the voice squawked, "That'll be eighteen-oh-six at the first window."

"Right." They resumed creeping along behind the cars. He stuck his right hand into his pants pocket, pulled out change, pushed the coins around with his thumb, reached up and stuck a nickel and a penny between his teeth, and put the rest back. He chuckled around them and pulled them back out. "What am I doing? Here, hold your left hand up. No, left is the other hand. There. Hold these." When she had them, he pulled out his wallet, opened it, rested it on her hand, extracted a twenty and put the wallet away. "Don't drop the change, but hold on to this too." She did.

They inched forward again. "When we get to that window, hold those out and hand them to the person inside. They'll hand you back two dollar bills. Take them."

"Right," she said confidently.

They reached the window. The overweight girl said, "Eighteen-oh-six," in a bored, thickly accented voice, took the money and passed back two dollars, all without actually looking at either of her customers. The woman from another world held the money uncertainly, clearly wondering what to do with it. He tugged them out of her hand and stuck them in the inside pocket.

The boy at the next window at least looked at them. Well, at her. Dan got his attention. "Could you toss in two ketchup packets?" The kid dropped them into a bag, then held it out. "Thanks. Grab that, would you?" She did, and took the next bag without prompting. He pulled forward a few yards. "Let me look inside both bags and make sure they gave us the right stuff." He checked the bags, nodded, satisfied, then pulled around to the parking lot and popped the bike into neutral.

"Let me hold those, and see if you can unzip the saddlebags." He pointed. The first Velcro tab puzzled her for a second, but the zippers were familiar. He put the food bag into the right side, above the exhaust pipes, and the shakes in the left one. She zipped the tops shut again.

"Okay, we're off. I saw a place a few miles back where we can stop and nobody will see us." He pulled out into the road. "Ten minutes, at most."

* * *

Dan stopped the motorcycle well off the road, shut off the engine and flipped the kickstand down. "This should be a good place," he told her. She climbed off the bike cautiously, but without difficulty. He hopped off, retrieved the two McDonalds bags and led her away from the road.

Behind a large patch of brush was a shallow depression littered with pale yellowish rocks, a couple the size of small cars. He set the bags on a table-sized rock and took off his helmet. "You can take yours off, too. Nobody should see us here."

She stopped in front of him. "Will you help me? I don't know…"

He chuckled. "None of those things come with directions, huh?" He looked around, set his helmet on another rock and peered under her chin. "It looks the same…" He reached up and pinched the sides, and the buckle snapped apart. "It is the same. That's one sophisticated Chameleon Circuit you've got."

She put her hands on both sides of her helmet and pulled it off. One strap snagged her sunglasses and dragged them off with it. She looked annoyed, and embarrassed.

Dan laughed. "Happens to me, too. Don't worry about it." That got her smiling again. She set her helmet beside his and he helped her put the sunglasses back on. The air in their little dell was fairly still, and he could tell that their jackets would soon get uncomfortably warm. He started taking his off.

She raised a hand to the zipper. "Should I take this off, too?"

He laid his jacket beside the helmets. "You'll probably want to. It's pretty warm here, now that we've stopped."

He turned away, opened the first bag, pulled out the shakes and stuck straws in them. She was laying her jacket down when he turned back. She looked even better than he remembered. "Here, try both of these and take the one you like the most. I'll take the other one."

She took the vanilla shake, studied it, and put the straw to her lips. He nodded encouragement, she sipped and smiled brightly. "Mmmmm!"

He smiled with her. "Now try the strawberry."

She switched, a little reluctantly, and tasted the second shake. "Mmmmm- _ **HMMMM!**_ " She held tight to it, with an even more animated expression.

"I think we have a winner," he announced, then took a long pull on the vanilla shake, set it down and opened the food bag. He pulled out a box of fries and held them out to her, grinning. "Your fries, milady." She took them, a little uncertainly.

He pulled a couple of loose fries from the bag and munched them, demonstrating The Proper Way To Eat Earth-Style French Fries. He pulled out the other contents, setting them on the rock — two paper-wrapped hamburgers, a box of chicken nuggets, napkins, ketchup packets — as the woman watched, fascinated. He flattened out the bag the shakes had been in and dumped the remaining fries on it, then flattened the food bag and laid it in front of her. She nodded understanding and set her fries on it. He climbed up and sat on the sun-baked rock beside their meal; she set her milkshake beside her fries and sat on the other side, still watching him curiously.

He unwrapped a hamburger, peeled it open, tore one corner off a ketchup packet and emptied it onto the patty. "They never put enough ketchup on these things," he said, closing it back up and setting it beside her fries. He repeated his performance with the other burger, then took a bite and nodded. "They make a pretty good burger, if you don't let 'em bury it under a ton of other stuff. Go ahead, eat, drink, however you want. There's not really a right or wrong way to eat fast food." He opened the chicken nugget box and ate one.

She picked up a single fry, took an experimental bite and smiled before polishing it off. She tried a chicken nugget and smiled again.

"I take it everything meets with Madame's approval?" he asked in a playfully pretentious tone.

She paused long enough to mumble, "It's good," then dug in as if she'd been starving for days.

He ate at a more leisurely pace, letting her have most of the chicken nuggets and some of his fries. He was beginning to worry that he hadn't gotten enough, but she slowed down after finishing the hamburger. Traffic whooshed past unseen on the road, crows cawed, smaller birds chirped. Nothing intruded into their little space. She ate, smiled, and slowly unwound from her eventful morning.

They were finishing their last fries and slurping the dregs of their shakes when he asked, "Feel better?"

She gave him a large, satisfied smile. "Yes, a lot. I did not know I was so hungry before you ask. Thank you for this lunch."

"Hey, it's our first date," he said with a chuckle. "It's supposed to be my treat."

"First…date?" she asked, puzzled.

"A date," he proclaimed with great conviction. "When a man and a woman do something fun together, and get to know each other better. Come to think of it, a ride and a picnic is one of the classics. Right up there with dinner and a show."

She was trying to formulate a response when a small gust of wind threatened to scatter the remnants of their lunch. Her hand snapped out even faster than his, pinning the paper bag under her last few fries to the rock.

"Good reflexes," he said, holding his own bag down as she looked at her hand with surprise. He finished off his fries, shook out the bag and dropped his cup into it. "We have to clean everything up when we're done. This is a nice place. We don't want to leave it in a mess."

She nodded absently and ate her remaining fries as he stuffed empty boxes and wrappers into the bag. He handed her one napkin and wiped his hands on the other one as an example. She copied him, and put the last of their trash in the bag.

There followed a rather uncomfortable silence until he broke it. "Now's when we should talk, and learn more about each other, but you don't remember anything about your past. Makes the usual conversation openers feel more like mood killers." He asked with faint hope, " _Have_ you remembered anything?"

She shook her head. "No. It's like time started for me when I first saw this world. As if before that, I was… _not_."

He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he tried to lighten the mood. "I wish you could at least remember your name. It would be nice to call you something besides 'hey you'." He grinned. "Or even, 'hey beautiful'."

She smiled again, but quickly went back to looking troubled.

"You must have had a name, sometime," he mused, half to himself.

"I think so too," she agreed, "but I do not have it now." She put a hand to her head. "It's not in here."

He put a hand over her other one, where it rested on the rock. "Sorry. I shouldn't keep bringing up such a painful subject."

She shook her head dismissively and gazed off into the distance. When she spoke, her voice was distant, too. "You were right, what you said to the police. I _am_ lost, and alone. Not just lost in this world; I feel lost inside, too. I…I don't have anything."

He gripped her hand tight. "You're not alone. At least, you don't have to be. I'm here."

She turned to him, slowly. Her lips trembled.

"And I think you're wrong, about having nothing. You have a lot of good qualities. You're smart, and nice, and friendly, and you're good company. You're patient, and even with all the troubles you're having you can enjoy a bike ride in the country. I like talking to you, and being with you, and I want to help you." He gave her an encouraging smile. "If it turns out you can't get your old memories back, maybe we can make new ones."

"Daniel…" She raised a hand to her face and encountered the sunglasses. She pulled them off clumsily to reveal tears spilling from her purple eyes. She wiped at them, then almost fell against him and held on, desperately. He put his arms around her and made comforting sounds. She sobbed softly for a few minutes, then sniffed, raised her head and leaned away from him. He let her go and watched as she regained her composure.

"You're right," she said with determination. "My past is lost to me, and there is no getting it back. I have to move ahead. Will you help me?"

"Of course. Any way I can."

"Then give me a name," she pleaded. "A name for this world, for…ahead?"

"A new name, for a new life?" he suggested.

"Yes!" She pounced on the words. "A new name."

"I'd like to help, but this is _your_ name. You should pick it."

"How can I think of a name when I remember nothing, have no word?" She looked at him beseechingly. "I _need_ your help, Daniel."

He couldn't refuse her. "All right, I'll help you find a name, but the choice has to be yours. It has to be something you like, a name you'll be happy with for the rest of your life. I don't want to make a mistake, and give you the wrong name."

She looked at him, with a little smile of anticipation, as if she thought he would immediately conjure up the perfect name. Her smile slowly deflated as he sat there ruminating in silence. He looked at the rocks, at her, towards the brush-hidden road. He took his sunglasses off and gazed at her some more. His lips worked from side to side a few times. _How can I find the **right** name? What if she latches on to the first stupid thing I say, and winds up with something completely inappropriate? I **don't** want to let her down! All I can think of right now are names of actresses,_ _and annoying pop_ _stars; that's no good! She's not a Charlize, or Morena, or Celine, or — oh **hell** no, **anything** but Britney! Not Lita, either. Not Stevie. Yeah, she does **look** a little like Salli Richardson, but aside from that resemblance Salli just doesn't fit her at all._

"Okay, there's something we can try," he said finally, mostly to forestall her growing look of disappointment. "I'll need your help."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I'll help."

"There's a trick I use, when I'm trying to think of a word," he explained. "I run through the alphabet, slowly, and see if I can at least figure out what letter it starts with. Maybe that will give you some ideas about your name. Want to give it a try?"

She looked intrigued. "All right."

"Okay, then, here goes. A…B…C…" She looked interested at a few of them, and when he got to "T" her gaze sharpened, but she didn't say anything. He finished, "…X…Y…Z." When she kept looking expectantly at him, he chuckled. "That's it. Z is the last letter of our alphabet."

"I see." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I…might have feel something, when you said 'T'. I don't know what it meant, though."

"Maybe it's a clue," he said hopefully. "Let's try adding a second letter after the T and see if that shakes anything loose. TA…TB — no, nothing would start with TB, or some of the other letters…TE…TH…" She looked interested again at "TO" but waited until he finished.

"Maybe, T-O?" she said uncertainly.

"Hmmm. That could be pronounced either 'too' or 'toe'; does either one sound better to you?"

She didn't answer for several seconds. "Toe. I think."

"Right, let's see if we can add a third letter…" He went through and through the alphabet, they tested and discarded different combinations, sometimes adding a letter, sometimes dropping one or even two and trying again. Sometimes she had a positive or negative _feeling_ about a certain combination, sometimes she just shrugged helplessly. After more than twenty minutes he offered up his latest attempt. "Tovala?"

She looked at him thoughtfully. "I think…I like it. Will you say it again?"

"Sure! Tovala." He tried to keep any hint of encouragement or persuasion off his face. He mustn't force her choice, should try to influence her as little as possible.

"What do you think? Do you like it?" she asked eagerly.

 _And so founder the best-laid plans_ … He said carefully, "I want you to choose the name _you_ want, without any pressure. What I think doesn't matter."

"It does to me." She regarded him steadily, unyielding. "Do you like to call me Tovala?" Her voice made the word sound perfectly captivating.

He looked into those purple eyes, gazing back at him hopefully, expectantly… "How do _you_ feel when I call you Tovala?"

She gave him another gorgeous smile. "I feel good. More than good, more than very good. I need a word, to tell you."

"Is that the name you want?" he asked, carefully confirming her decision. "Would you like me to call you Tovala, for the rest of your life?"

"Yes, Daniel. I would like that very much," she said softly.

He smiled and nodded. "Then that will be your name. So nice to meet you, Tovala. My name's Daniel, or Dan if you want something shorter."

She looked at him, curious. "What would my name be, shorter?"

"Do you want your name to be shorter? I think cutting it down would be a shame."

She frowned, puzzled. "Then why does your name have a shorter…?" She ran up against the limit of her vocabulary again.

"That would be a shorter form, or version," he supplied helpfully. "It's because my name has been around for a really long time, and some people wanted something that took less time or effort. Everybody knows that 'Dan' is a short form of 'Daniel'. Your name is brand new. Nobody would know that a short part of it stands for 'Tovala'." He went on, reflectively, "And there doesn't seem to be a good way to shorten it, anyhow."

"I…see," she said, taken a little aback.

"Besides, I like calling you Tovala. I wouldn't use a short version unless you asked me to."

"You _do_ like my new name," she said, a little accusatory.

"Yeah, I do. It's beautiful, and kind of exotic," he said indulgently. "Like you."

"Why did you not say so, when I asked?"

"I wanted you to choose a name _you_ like, not because you thought I wanted you to choose it."

"I would never want a name you don't like," she declared. "You are…are very… **AAUGGHH!** I need word, to say what you are to me!"

"Do you mean, 'important'?"

"Yes, but no," she said, unsatisfied. "I feel more. From the first, you were good to me. You did not know who I was, what I would do, if I would hurt or kill you, but you were nice to me, you help me. You tell me to fly away, and let your police arrest you. You have done so much for me, I feel very good about you…and about this world of yours."

Her eyes held his with an intent, enigmatic gaze. _What does she see? What am I, in those eyes? Does she really mean what I hope she means?_ He laughed silently at himself. _Who am I kidding? If I could look into a woman's eyes and know what she's thinking, I'd have a lot better luck with 'em!_

He blinked, and smiled, and said, "I think you found just the right words."

She looked at him in surprise, then gifted him with another smile, which slowly faded to a thoughtful expression. "What should we do now?" she wondered.

Dan considered the question, then looked at his watch. "The cops will be suspicious if I don't get home pretty soon," he mused. "I want to take you with me, but you're a fugitive. We can't let anybody see us together." He gave her a reassuring smile. "It's not your fault, but it's still a problem."

"See us together…" she murmured, distracted, as he tried to think of some solution.

"You could fly there and meet me," he went on, half to himself. "But you might be seen, and if they find you there we'll be screwed. The trick is not to draw attention in the first place. Hhhhh…"

"I think there is a way," she interrupted his ruminations.

"Really?" he asked eagerly. "How?"

Instead of answering she stood up, backed away from the rock and floated up about a foot. Her expression grew… _focused_ , and then she wasn't there.

"Tovala!" he exclaimed. "Where are you?"

"I'm here," her voice issued from the empty space where she had been. "You can't see me?"

"No!" he said, relieved but still anxious. He concentrated, and picked out a slight distortion against the background, like a faint heat ripple, insubstantial. "How did you do that?" He got off the rock and took a step toward the strange optical effect.

"I'm not sure." Her voice seemed to be right in front of him. "It happened when I was trying to find a way to…not be noticed."

He reached out and felt back pressure against his fingers. It wasn't like hitting an invisible wall; more like the air _thickened_ ahead of them. The harder he pushed, the thicker it felt. "Is your shield on?"

"Yes."

"So this is another function of your shield?" he guessed.

"I think so."

He chuckled. "Cloak Mode. Like that old Star Trek episode." The shield still didn't feel like anything. There was no resistance to moving his hand across it, but pushing into it was just impossible.

"Cloak mode?" She reappeared, her feet just a few inches above the ground. Her shield must have switched off in the same instant, because his hand was suddenly free to move forward, and did.

Straight into her left breast, causing her to gasp. She felt soft, and firm, and…just perfect. "Ack! I'm sorry!" He yanked his hand back hastily, flustered. "I didn't mean to, it was an accident…" The Chameleon Circuit hadn't created a bra. Maybe it didn't have a pattern to work from. Her blouse was made of a light, silky material and he'd felt _everything_ through it.

"What's wrong, Daniel?" She looked at him, curious and a little concerned, as her boots settled to the ground.

"What's _wrong?_ I just…" Her nearly complete lack of reaction was beginning to register. "You're not pissed? I grabbed your…" He stopped short of specifying his transgression.

She glanced down at herself, then back at him. "Why would I be…'pissed'? That feel good."

"Tovala…" He looked at her for a few seconds and completely broke down laughing. Her bewildered expression only made him laugh harder. He backed up, sat on their lunch-rock and surrendered to mirth. When he recovered enough to talk almost normally he shook his head slowly and said, "You're really not from around here, are you?"

"No…" she said, still puzzled.

"Okay," he said, still chuckling. "I'll explain. It's considered extremely rude and offensive to put a hand on a woman that way unless she allows it. They call it groping, and perverts get arrested for that all the time." He got off the rock and stood before her, suddenly dead serious. "I would _never_ touch you like that without an invitation, but, your shield just turned off, and my hand was… It was an accident, a mistake, and I apologize. I won't do that to you again."

Now she looked disappointed. "Do you not want to touch me?"

"Glrg…" He paused, to get over his surprise. "Oh, yeah, I do. I want to touch you again, and again, in so many ways…" He took a deep breath and blew most of it out. "But not now, and not here. There are things we _have_ to do, before the things we _want_ to do. I'm sorry about that, too." _Really **really** sorry, like you have **no** idea_…

"I…see," she said reluctantly.

"I have to go back to my house," he told her. "Will you follow me, in cloak mode, and meet me there?"

She thought it over. "Yes. I can do that."

He smiled. "Good. Wait until I get off the motorcycle and stand in my back yard, looking up. Stay in cloak mode until we're inside the house."

"So nobody else will see me."

"That's right."

"How long do I have to keep hiding?" she asked plaintively.

He sighed. "Until they're not trying to arrest you. I'm starting to get some ideas about what we can do, and I'll keep thinking about it. Sorry it's taking so long."

She smiled. "It's all right. I know you'll find a way."

"That makes one of us," he muttered, then looked at her. "Okay, so, we should get going. I'll see you when we get to my house."

In lieu of a reply, she stepped forward and put her arms around him. "Mmmmm…"

Dan returned her embrace, and again she felt completely _right_. Neither of them wanted it to end. He kissed her, lightly.

"Mmmm…" she repeated, squeezing him tighter.

He ran his tongue delicately across her lips until she opened them with another low moan. This kiss was not hurried and insistent; they took their time, carefully exploring every sensation. He led her a little, but mostly let her set the pace.

The kiss ended, leaving them both out of breath. He recovered, slowly, and murmured, "We have to go."

She squeezed him again. "I know."

They pulled apart, reluctantly, still gazing at each other. She asked, "What…word, for that?"

"That was a kiss." _An incredible kiss_ …

"Kiss is good." She smiled sunnily. "Will we do kiss again, when we get to your house?"

"Yes!" he answered instantly. When his brain caught up he added, "But we have to get going now."

"All right," she agreed. She stepped past him, picked up her sunglasses and put them back on. "Oh, that feel better."

He went to the other rock, picked up their jackets and handed hers to her. They both put them on, watching each other and smiling a little. He handed her the blue helmet she'd conjured up.

She looked at it, then at him. "Cloak mode. Nobody will see." The helmet vanished, and he still had no clue how she did that. She reached behind her head, pulled her hair out of her jacket, flung it behind her and shook it out with a defiant smile. "No hiding!"

He smiled back. "You look great." He put his own helmet on, retrieved his sunglasses from the lunch rock, picked up the bag of trash, and headed for the road.

Tovala rose into the air and disappeared again. "I follow you," her voice sounded from above him.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

I've brought in more parallels with Date A Live in this chapter:

They go on a date, and she has fun  
She encounters Earth food, with great enthusiasm  
Her absent past causes her some angst, Daniel comforts her  
He gives her a name, a somewhat more imaginative one than 'Tenth'


	3. The Not-So-Long Arm Of The Law

**The Not-So-Long Arm Of The Law**

"Tovala?" Daniel Evans stood in his back yard holding his helmet in one hand, trying to spot a subtle change in the air.

Anticipation had made the ride home seem to take forever, and he'd barely noticed the passing scenery. He'd made a quick stop behind a strip-mall to stuff their bag of trash into a dumpster; it represented too much lunch for one person, and if found at his house it could lead to unwelcome questions. He'd folded the passenger foot-pegs up for the same reason. Otherwise, the ride had been relatively uneventful. He hadn't wasted much time looking for an elusive ripple in the sky above him.

"I'm here," her cheerful voice sounded from in front of him, and up.

"Oh, good," he said with relief. "I'm glad you're here." He turned, walked to the house, opened the back door and moved aside. "Go on in. You can drop your shield after I shut the door." He felt something brush past him, stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

He set his helmet and sunglasses on the dryer. Tovala appeared in front of him without her sunglasses and leather jacket, dropped to the floor, skipped forward, flung her arms around him and kissed him.

"Mmmmffg!" he protested, before giving in. She must have spent most of her trip thinking about this; her technique had improved substantially and she had become much more assertive. His pulse pounded and…other things happened, to his discomfort. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice.

She ended the long kiss and pulled back, breathing hard and smiling brightly. "Was that…a good kiss, Dan?"

He was out of breath, too. "That was an… _amazing_ kiss, Tovala."

She turned up the smile and moved in for another kiss. Giving in to her was even easier this time. She was soft and strong and enthusiastic and he wanted to hold her, kiss her, touch her…he _wanted_ her. They both held tight and moaned into each other's mouths. He didn't know how long it was before they both banged into the washing machine on unsteady legs and were jolted out of their euphoric daze.

"Let's…go in the house," he gasped.

"We're in the house," she said, breathless and puzzled. "Aren't we?"

He shook his head. "Just the laundry room." He fumbled out a bunch of keys, unlocked the inner door and led her inside. "My house. It ain't fancy, but it's home."

She gazed around the ordinary, slightly run-down kitchen with a kind of blank bafflement, with no idea where the questions even started, then back at him.

Something else was clamoring for his attention, insistently. "I have to, uh, use the bathroom," he told her. "Do you need to go?"

"I…think so," she said hesitantly. She _did_ feel something, down in her belly, and the words 'bathroom' and 'go' might give her a clue to what it meant.

"Okay, I'll show you to the new one." He led her through a place, then a short way to another place with some things she did not know. "There you go."

She looked into the bathroom, then at him with a lost expression. "How…?"

He returned her look with one of total consternation. After a long, long moment he summed up the bizarre situation: "Oh…good grief." She was still watching him with an anxious look in those enchanting purple eyes.

She needed his help. He couldn't abandon her now. "Do you know how to…pull down your pants?" He wanted her to unfasten them, not make them vanish like her helmet and, presumably, her jacket.

She shook her head.

He sighed. "Right." He raised the toilet lid and turned back to her. "I need to…undo your pants and help you pull them down. All right?"

"Okay."

He cautiously unbuckled her belt, pulled the zipper down, unbuttoned the waistband and tried not to stare at her alluring legs as he slid the pants down to her knees. Under them she wore a pair of plaid boxers nearly identical to his. He found the implications a bit…unsettling.

"Can you, um, pull those down yourself?" he asked, keeping his eyes on her face.

She nodded, and did.

"Okay, now you sit on the seat," he guided her to it, "and, uh, well, the rest is pretty much up to you." He chuckled nervously. "I sure can't do it for you. I'll just be, uh, in the other bathroom, for a minute." He backed out hastily and shut the door. He hesitated, suggested helpfully, "You just, um, kind of…" then heard splashing water. "Oh, good, uh, I'll see you, in, a few minutes."

A thought occurred to him as he stood in front of the commode, and he groaned. _Some time soon she's going to have to take a dump, and she won't know any more about **that** than she did about taking a leak_. It would be quite the trial, and he dreaded it already. He could only hope they would both survive the ordeal with their dignity intact. Her complete memory loss was certain to provide them with all sorts of little bonus problems, in addition to the obvious big ones.

Those would be a bear. He'd thought about solutions while riding, both before and after she found him, and he hadn't come up with a lot of ideas. How to convince the government that they _really_ didn't want to push her to a showdown? That would go against every policy, every practice; the government _had_ to be in control, no defiance allowed, no exceptions.

If they did force her to a showdown, they would lose. He couldn't begin to guess how her force shield worked, how it turned her invisible, what allowed her to fly, or how her sword had sliced a car in half from a hundred yards away. _They must all be based on laws and principles of physics we haven't even discovered yet_. He was positive those were just a small sample of what her advanced technology could do, and they were designed as _weapons_ , defensive or offensive. Maybe she _was_ a soldier, or a super-spy. Whatever she'd been, no power on this planet would be a match for her.

He finished, hung his leather jacket on the back of a kitchen chair, walked into the living room, sat on the couch and thought some more. Yeah, the government would definitely lose — but so would she. They could never back down after publicly making fools of themselves; she'd be Public Enemy Number One until they either found some way to kill her or had nothing left to throw at her. _And don't forget, they've still got thousands of atomic bombs stashed away that they never got to play with, **and** a president fond of bragging about his Big Button_.

Somehow, he would have to make contact with somebody who'd listen. They'd have to negotiate a way to not issue an arrest warrant for her, or to rescind it if one was already issued. They'd have to give the government a way to save face, some tangible proof they could point to and claim victory over her. Something other than Prisoner Number 0287443, dammit! She hadn't done anything to deserve being thrown in jail, and he wouldn't allow it. If that was the only option they offered, he would advise her to fight to the end!

He heard the door open, and turned around. She saw him, smiled and walked briskly in to stand in front of him. He patted the couch cushion, said "Have a seat," and watched her sit down beside him, captivated again by her beauty, so close…

He forced himself to look at her solemnly. "We have to figure out a way to solve the problems between you and the government. That won't be easy, because you have power. They want it desperately, and at the same time it terrifies them because it's not under their control. Fear _and_ greed — the two most compelling motivations that exist, both directed at you. You'll have to use both of them, offer the government something for their greed in exchange for your freedom, and prove to them that they _can't_ take it from you. Making them believe _that_ will be hard, because right now they think they've got all the power there is. They'll be sure they can just _take_ whatever they want, and they won't be pleased when they find out there's somebody they can't just push around."

He watched her inquiringly, but she just looked blank. "Do you have any ideas?" he wondered. "I'm running a little short of them today."

"Can't we talk about that later?" She smiled again, invitingly, and pulled him in for a kiss.

He returned it gladly, and other things just didn't seem so important for a while. His heart was pounding when the kiss ended and he couldn't help reaching up, touching her, stroking…

She murmured, "Ohhhhh, feel nice," then giggled provocatively. "You like groping me!"

He opened his mouth to inform her that it shouldn't be considered groping in this context, but words deserted him when he discovered that her blouse was no longer there and her hands were moving, too. He bent down and caressed her with his lips and tongue, urged on by her sounds of pleasure.

Her roving hands found his privates, and he sighed as she squeezed him experimentally. "What is that?" she breathed.

A shock ran through him as the realization struck, he froze, and then looked up at her. "Tovala," he said uneasily, "how much do you know about sex?"

"Sex?" she moaned. "What is, sex?"

"Oh, no," he mumbled. "Awww… _shit_." He squeezed her one last time, moved his hand away and said reluctantly, "We can't do this now. We have to stop. You… you need… more, uh, perspective…"

"Stop?" she objected huskily. "Wha'd'you mean, stop? I don' want to stop. You _can't_ stop. Touch me more."

She grabbed his hand and pulled it towards her, and he pulled back. "We can't, not…" She was stronger than she looked and he was losing ground, until he raised his elbow and twisted out of her grip. "Tovala, no! We shouldn't—"

She suddenly made an infuriated noise, pushed him away with both hands and there was something else, something like her shield, that shoved him all the way across the couch until he hit the armrest. She leapt to her feet and snarled in a stentorian, resonant voice:

 **"ADONAI MAEREK"**

Her remaining clothing dissolved into a pale purple glow and for one timeless moment she held him mesmerized; he'd never seen a woman so exquisitely gorgeous before. She seemed utterly unconcerned by her perfect nudity as her eyes burned into his and the light began to shift around her body. Shapes formed out of the light and clad her in the metallic boots, gauntlets and dress/armor ensemble she'd been wearing when he first saw her. Pure white light shone from her skirts and bodice, filling the room. Her hair had risen several inches above her head and _expanded_ , while tendrils of it waved about randomly, like vines stirred by a breeze. She glared at him, reached to her left hip and announced:

 **"SANDALPHON!"**

From _nowhere_ , she drew out that sword made of bright metal and purple energy, whisked it around and pointed it right between his eyes. Her every movement was smooth, graceful and lightning quick, without hesitation or wasted motion. Somewhere in her missing past she must have trained and practiced for years. He wouldn't want to fight her, with weapons or without.

"What you do to me?" Her voice was less thunderous but still more than human, filled with pain and rage.

"Tovala, calm down, please," he tried to soothe her. His pulse was racing again, for a very different reason, as the primordial 'fight-or-flight' response took hold. She was wild and beautiful and terrifying and glorious. He could feel his hands shake, and tried to ignore it. "Let me—"

"You don't like me! You never like me! You— you—" she choked out, nearly drowning in a morass of emotions she didn't know how to deal with. She jabbed the sword at his face, stopping but a finger's breadth from his nose, and he shrunk back.

"Tovala, please, listen to me, I'm sorry—" He shifted aside but the sword's luminous point tracked his movement precisely. He'd seen similar weapons depicted in various movies, and those had led him to expect her glowing sword to buzz, or crackle, or hiss — but the real thing was eerily silent, and perhaps more intimidating as a result. This close, he could see subtle variations in reflectivity that formed intricate patterns along the blade, giving an impression of complex electronic circuits buried beneath the mirror-smooth metal surface.

"Shut up!" she snapped. "Don't lie to me! Don't you—" Her throat closed up on angry sobs, silencing her again. She pulled the sword back and started an attack stroke, but checked it with a grimace.

He only flinched a little, keeping his eyes on hers. "Tovala—"

She began another strike and stopped again, with a strangled yowl of frustration.

"Tovala, will you let me—" he pleaded.

"Why you do this to me? _**Why?!**_ " she half-screamed, half-sobbed.

"Because I don't want to be alone!" It was the only thing he could think to say that wouldn't enrage her even more.

It did break through her agonized wrath, a little. "What you mean?" she asked harshly. He thought the sword shook slightly.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, but I don't want you to hate me."

"No! You lie!" The sword was definitely quivering. "You stop, you, you, you don't want to hold me—"

"I didn't _want_ to stop! I'm sorry I made you mad, I'm sorry I hurt you, but I would have hurt you much worse if we kept on—"

"Nothing can be worse!" she declared.

"Taking advantage of you would be worse, this is the wrong time—"

"Why?" she demanded. "What you mean, wrong time?"

"It's the wrong time for _you_. Think about it, you said time started for you this morning, not four hours ago. You haven't had time to learn enough about the world, or me, or yourself. I'm sorry, but I think we needed to stop."

Her lips trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes. "What do you mean?" she repeated, now more confused than angry, though only a little more.

"It's too soon. Look what you're doing. You got almost hysterical, and now you've whipped out a sword that can chop a car in half. Is this what you _want_ to do? Is this who you want to be?"

Her mouth twisted, she glared at him some more, but in the end she shook her head, and the sword drifted off to his left. The tears were making their way down her cheeks.

"Please, Tovala, put the sword away. Sit down, and tell me what you think, and I'll tell you what I think. This isn't what either one of us wants, is it?"

She shook her head again. "No…"

"Good." He managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry about everything. I'll try to tell you the reasons. Will you put the sword away, and sit here with me, and let me explain?"

She looked reproachfully at him for a few more seconds and said grudgingly, "I will listen." She flicked the sword around and it was gone. Again. He still didn't see a hint of how she did it. Her hair settled down and stopped moving. She looked down at herself, frowned and closed her eyes. A wave of purple light swept from her head to her feet, leaving her dressed in the blouse, pants and biker-chick boots again. He had an idea why; that gown and armor looked rather uncomfortable for lounging about in. She plunked herself down at the far end of the couch with a huff, and a most distracting bounce, glowering at him.

He sighed, and decided to tackle the issue head-on. " _Do_ you know anything about sex, Tovala?"

"Do I know anything about _anything?_ " she countered bitterly.

"Yes, you do," he said encouragingly. "You're learning at an astonishing speed. You've learned more in a few hours than most people learn in years. There's just…still a lot more to learn."

"When will I know _enough?_ " she asked petulantly.

"Never." He spoke with flat certainty. "Nobody will ever know _enough_. That's why we have to keep learning, all our lives. I've learned a lot from you today, things I never imagined. You made me think harder than I have in years." He gave her an ironic half-smile. "Thank you, for shaking up my comfortable certainties." At her perplexed look he went on, "But I think you're asking, when will you know enough to fit in here, and not feel so out of place. Soon, I hope. And you want to know why I did— well, _didn't_ , a few minutes ago."

She didn't say anything and he went on, cautiously, "Okay, so, I was afraid if I, uh, if _we_ , had sex right then, you'd regret it later, when you know more, and resent me for taking advantage of…of the situation, and not considering how it would affect you."

She was still watching him suspiciously. Like a hanging judge, eyeing a suspect in the dock. "I've seen it happen before, women deciding it was a mistake afterward and getting mad at me, one of 'em even tried to say it was rape—" he remembered how little she knew, "—that is, she tried to say I forced her to have sex and I _didn't_ … and a few other times _I_ found out it was a mistake, actually I knew they were mistakes all along but I was young and horny and thinking with the wrong head…" Her expression of growing mystification finally registered on him, stemming the flow of babble. "…aaannnd I'm not making any sense at all, am I?"

She looked at him for a few more seconds and shook her head slowly. He tried again. "I felt like I'd be letting you down. Sex is not something you can undo after the fact, and if we rushed into it before you knew all the implications… You'd _find_ out later, and then you wouldn't trust me ever again, with good reason. You'd never want to see me again. _That's_ what I didn't want."

"You say…you didn't want me, because you want me," she ground out, dubiously. "…you push me away, so I won't go away. Is that what you say?"

"I guess it does sound kind of backwards, but…that's the general idea."

"It sound like a lie," she said resentfully.

"I'm afraid I can't prove right now that I'm telling you the truth. When you know more about us, I hope you'll see that I am." He chuckled derisively. "When you find out how a lot of men treat women here, you'll know for sure it's the truth. You'll probably laugh your ass off, that I was the one to say **_no_**."

"What do you mean?" She was definitely less hostile now.

"A lot of men will lie to women, and trick them into _having_ sex," he said disapprovingly. "A guy that didn't care about you would have just gone ahead, and to hell with the consequences." He looked into her eyes with complete conviction. "I won't do that to you. I don't ever want to trick you, or push you into something before you have time to understand. That's not who I choose to be."

She thought over his words, but before she could come up with a reply they heard a noise outside and both their heads snapped around to the living-room window. Through a gap in the curtains they could see something black and white and familiar to both of them stopping in front of the house.

"Oh, shit, it's the cops," he said nervously. "Out the back door, quick, cloak mode. Don't let 'em see you."

She stood up, and they heard a car door slam outside as she turned towards the kitchen. He said hastily, "Please don't fly away, Tovala. Stay near the house, and wait till they're gone. I know I made some mistakes, but please give me a chance to make it up to you."

She hesitated, but couldn't seem to figure out what she wanted to say before she hurried to the back door, and out. A few seconds later he heard the laundry-room door open and close. He thought about getting up, but decided to wait. When the doorbell rang, he stood up, walked to the front door and opened it.

Officer Nelson stood on his porch, looking just a touch ill at ease. "Mister Evans. I'd like to talk some more about what happened this morning. Can I come in?"

Daniel hadn't thought about it before, but Nelson was years younger than him, in his early thirties at most. It was with a strange sense of role reversal that he opened the security door. "Okay, you can come in, but you won't find her here."

"Oh, I'm sure," he said with an ironic twist as he stepped inside. "I could search this house from top to bottom and I wouldn't find anybody. That's not why I'm here."

Dan led the way around a pair of bookcases into the living room proper and waved Nelson to a chair, then sat on the couch. "Okay, so, what did you want to talk about?"

Nelson couldn't help himself. " _Do_ you know where she is?"

Dan regarded him warily. "Why would you think I did?"

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. If you didn't, you'd just say so."

Daniel's pulse was racing again, and his stomach felt hollow. "I told you why turning her in or trying to arrest her would be a bad idea, and I've thought of even more reasons."

"Relax." Nelson held up one hand, with a pained look. "That's not an issue at the moment."

His panic was now salted with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean nobody is looking for a flying woman with long purple hair and a big-ass sword. Why, the very idea that a woman could fly is crazy," he said sardonically. "Things like that just can't happen."

"Even though we all _saw_ it happen this morning."

"We did?" he asked sourly.

" _I_ did," Dan stated. "You were there, too, plus two other witnesses, _plus_ your cameras. How can there be any doubt?"

"Oh, yeah, the cameras," he complained grumpily. "The damn _useless_ cameras. For some reason they never recorded anything important. No flying woman, that's for sure!"

"Weren't they on?"

"I thought they were. We all thought they were." He scowled again. "But they weren't working. They all stopped recording the instant…everything happened, and didn't start again until after she was gone. Like the cars, the radios, computers, cell phones… The first thing they show is Rozza asking about the shorted wires." He looked at Dan and demanded plaintively, "How did she _do_ that?"

Dan shook his head. "I don't know." He frowned. "I don't even have a clue. That shouldn't be possible." He pondered the enigma. "Jamming radios and cell phones is simple, just generate a stronger signal at the right frequencies, but…" he looked bewildered "…interfering with the signals inside a camera's circuits would take millions of times more power. The kind of energy density you'd get inside a microwave oven. The cameras should have been fried, and us along with 'em."

They looked at each other until Dan said, "It might help if I knew what happened before I got there."

Nelson got a 'D'oh!' look and said, "That's right, you weren't there. You didn't see…" He composed himself. "I was patrolling the area, looked up and saw some sort of shadowy… _thing_ , up in the sky. But not really a shadow, it wasn't exactly dark, it was…"

"Sort of a distorted ripple in the air?"

"Yeah! That's a good description," he said with satisfaction. "I saw it roaming around the neighborhood, like it was looking for something, and followed it. Officers Morales and Rozza pulled out of another street a few minutes later, and we all followed it the best we could. It wasn't moving all that fast, but we had to stay on the roads and it didn't. It stopped over a lot behind some buildings, swelled up into a huge silver sphere sunk about half-way into the ground, and then it disappeared, leaving a big cloud of dust behind."

"Huh. Sounds like those time-transport spheres from Terminator." His eyes narrowed. "But then why wasn't the crater perfectly smooth?"

Nelson shook his head. "That ball went a lot deeper than the hole we saw, must have been over a hundred feet. I don't think it took anything _out_ , just ground it down."

"Uh," said Dan. There wasn't much else to say.

"We turned into a driveway, around to a parking lot behind the building, but when I pulled up beside that hole the car stalled. I tried to call it in, but the radio didn't work. The car wouldn't start, no lights, no buzzers, no starter, not even a click from the solenoid. Nothing was working — lights, radios, computers, _nothing_. We all got out, and Morales told me everything in their car was dead, too. The dust had blown away by that time," he paused, "and we could see somebody standing out in the middle of the crater."

"A woman with long purple hair," Dan suggested. "Who doesn't exist."

"A-yup," Nelson confirmed. "We didn't see where she came from, or how she got in the hole, but we wanted her out of there, for her own safety if nothing else. We all called to her, to come over and talk to us, and she just stood there staring around at everything like she was looking for an escape route. I thought she looked shifty, but now I think she was just confused."

"She wouldn't come to us, so we went to her. We saw she had a big sword in her hand, so Officer Rozza and I drew our Tasers, Officer Morales drew her sidearm, and we confronted her. She just looked at us, and wouldn't say a word, and started to point her sword at Rozza in a threatening manner. He used his Taser, but it didn't fire. I tried mine, and it didn't work either. Rozza was still under threat, so Officer Morales shot the suspect. And missed, from ten feet away. The suspect pointed her sword at Morales, she backed off and shot again, and a…not a beam, really, but sort of a purple glow, came out of the sword and hit her gun, and she yelled 'Shit!' and dropped it. And kept backing away, shaking her hand out. That must have hurt like hell."

"Rozza and I had switched to our sidearms by that time, we shot her, and we both missed, too. The suspect raised that sword, and we retreated to cover behind Morales's cruiser. She got out their M-4 rifle, locked and loaded, lined up and took two shots. The suspect swung her sword down, the car was cut in half, and the damn thing almost dropped on my foot. We all ran to my car and shot her about half a dozen times more, but never hit her."

"I think that's about when I got there," Dan said.

"Just about. She turned and raised the sword again, we all took one more shot at her," he gave a snarky grin, "and then some dumbass civilian jumped out in front of her and started waving his arms at us."

"I was trying to signal you to stop shooting," he protested.

"I wondered if that was on purpose," Nelson said. "Where'd you learn the hand signals?"

"Must have looked it up online a long time ago. I wasn't even sure I'd got it right."

"You did. One of the reasons I let you try to help."

"I'm glad you did," Dan said. "So, we all know what happened from then on. Until I left, anyway."

"You didn't miss much. Nothing as… _interesting_ as what came before, at least."

Dan chuckled. " _Interesting_ , in the Chinese sense?"

"I think we're in for some interesting times, all right," he agreed. "Power is still out to that whole area. I guess that last big spark finally blew a fuse down at the substation."

"Could be. But everything else is working again?"

"Everything. Like nothing was ever wrong." He hesitated, then added uncertainly, "Actually, I just had the craziest thought — it's like electricity itself wasn't working the whole time she was there."

"Huh." Dan thought it over. "You're right, it does sound crazy… but I think you could be on to something. Maybe that's what made my bike stall, too. Imagine what an advantage it would be if you could knock out all your enemy's electrical devices. If you could do it without shutting down your own equipment, that would be even better."

"One problem with that idea, though," Nelson grumbled. "It didn't kill the batteries. They're all still charged."

"It wouldn't," he said after a few seconds. "Battery charge is stored chemically. It doesn't turn into electricity until you draw current from it. If she was stopping electricity from working somehow, it shouldn't have affected the chemicals inside the batteries. I think that strengthens your theory."

"Huh." It was Nelson's turn to say it. "Makes sense, when you put it that way."

They sat in silence until Dan prompted him, "You said nobody's looking for her."

"Nope." The officer seemed reluctant to explain further.

"I'm not complaining, it's great and all, but… I don't understand. You tried to arrest her, and she flew away. Isn't that resisting arrest? It would be if she _ran_ away, right?"

"She couldn't have flown away," he repeated sarcastically. "That's impossible."

"…I, still don't get it," Dan said, puzzled.

Nelson let out a resigned sigh. "Might as well tell you." His eyes bored into Dan's. "Nothing leaves this room."

"Okay," he assented, dubious.

"Our supervisor is a total dick."

"That's not some sort of top secret intel, is it?" he asked, still puzzled.

"Hardly," Nelson replied with a nasty chuckle. "Everybody in the Department knows he's a dick. The secret part is me telling you about it."

"Oh." He paused, then added, "Well, I won't rat you out."

"Good enough. So, after we got the, uh, _incident_ scene under control the shift supervisor ordered us to make a complete report, in person."

"The total dick."

"That's the one. I drove both of them to the station because their car was in two pieces, we all had to stand in front of his desk like bad kids in the principal's office, and when we were done he didn't believe us."

"All three of you told him what happened, right?" he pressed. "We all _saw_ what happened."

"Did we? Where's the evidence?"

"The crater? The car?"

"Just a sinkhole, that sucked in a police car."

"Eyewitness testimony from three cops? And the car was _outside_ the crater, sliced in half."

"Doesn't matter. He _just knows_ what's impossible, and he _just knew_ we were feeding him bullshit."

Dan frowned. "A lot of things are impossible. Then they happen anyway. Did you report it to anybody else?"

"We've been ordered not to discuss the incident with anyone else in the Department, until he figures out our punishment for turning our cameras off, and lying to him."

"Jeez, what a dick." They both chuckled until Dan added, "So, how does it feel when you tell somebody something important and they just assume you're lying?"

"Yeah, yeah, shoe on the other foot, I got that, don't have to rub it in," Nelson said irritably. "Sucks to stand in front of some idiot and know all the proof in the world can't make any impression on what he 'just knows'."

"Why would he assume three police officers would just stand there and lie to him?" Dan asked, baffled. "That doesn't make sense, no matter how much of a dick he is."

"We're just trying to evade responsibility for destroying the car, and make him look bad," he growled. "We got a real long nasty lecture before he threw us out."

"Didn't he even ask for more evidence, or have somebody else check out your story?" Dan was still perplexed. "No matter how crazy it sounded, it would be serious if there was any chance at all it was true."

Nelson shook his head. "He wouldn't trust them either. He's kind of paranoid." He sighed. "He's been pranked a few times. Nothing like this, and never by me, but a few people just couldn't resist. He's a perfect target; thinks he knows everything and a stick up his ass a yard long."

"How did somebody like that get to be a supervisor?" Dan was more confused than ever. "How did he _stay_ a supervisor?"

"Politics," the officer said, frustrated. "Too many white supervisors, not enough minorities, so they promoted the most useless asshole in the division because he's got the right name and the right accent. Now they can't admit their mistake because we can't let a City Council member look stupid." He fixed Dan with another steely glare. "Doesn't. Leave. This. Room."

"Got it," he agreed. Nelson eyed him for a little longer, then nodded. Dan added thoughtfully, "Might I suspect you were in line for that promotion?"

He scowled. "You might."

Another thought occurred to him. "Hey, wait, he didn't tell you not to talk to me?"

"Can't really tell the investigating officer not to talk to a witness, and you're just a civilian." He chuckled. "Anyway, I'm just here to find out if you know any more about the sinkhole."

"Actually, I've learned quite a bit more about…the sinkhole," he said evasively. "And our little talk has given me a few ideas about solving…the sinkhole problem. If they're really not looking for a suspect."

"Nobody is looking for a girl with bright purple hair," Nelson assured him. "There's no APB, no warrant, no nothing. As far as we're concerned there _was_ no flying woman with an armored dress and a glowing sword."

"That's going to make things a lot easier," Dan said, relieved. "We just have to get to the right people with the right arguments, and convince them it's best for everybody not to make…somebody a criminal, when they don't have to."

"Anybody we know?" he asked, chuckling.

"Possibly," he said, preoccupied. "Do you know if the mayor is going to be in his office tomorrow morning?"

"I don't know any reason he wouldn't. You want to see the Mayor?" Nelson inquired dubiously. "How do you expect to get in?"

"Oh, I'm sure we can't get an appointment, but I think I can get him interested enough to come out and talk to me."

He suddenly looked suspicious. "How?"

"It's a surprise." He sobered at Nelson's warning frown. "I'm not going to break any laws, but I've only got a general idea what I want to do, I don't want to tell _anybody_ in advance, and…in your position, it might be better if you don't know what's going to happen. Your supervisor is probably going to wind up looking like a dipshit."

"I'm okay with that."

"I thought you didn't want to make him look bad," Dan said, confused again. "Swearing me to secrecy and all."

" _I_ can't make him look bad, or go around complaining about our internal problems," he clarified. "But they can't blame the Department for what some civilian does. Maybe we can finally get rid of him, or at least get him demoted."

"Good luck with that," Dan told him. "Whatever I do might help, or not. I don't even know enough to help on purpose."

"Uh-huh," Nelson acknowledged, then groused, "He wouldn't have believed us even if we _did_ have the video. I don't think he'd believe it if she was standing right there in front of him. How can somebody just pretend things are not what they _are?_ "

Dan sighed. "A lot of people are like that. They want to believe the world is a certain way. When something comes along and upsets their comfortable little notions they shut their eyes, stick their fingers in their ears and tell themselves 'it's not there, it's not there' for as long as they can get away with it. No matter how stupid it looks to the rest of us."

"That's exactly how it is," he said, nodding slowly. "Hey, you sort-of said you found out more about our, uh, visitor?"

"Aaahhh, what's the point of playing games?" Dan said, resigned. "She caught up with me on the road, I bought her lunch, and we talked, as much as we could while she's still learning English. She learns _fast_ , too. She seems to understand everything the first time she hears it. She still doesn't remember anything from before that sphere thing brought her here, and she's pretty much given up hope that she ever will. And still she— she's determined to make the best of her new life here. She just needs us to give her that chance. That's what I'm hoping to do tomorrow."

"By talking to the Mayor?"

"I think he's our best shot. I'm sure we can get his attention, and if we convince him, he can sell it to the other levels of government."

"Sounds like she convinced you," Nelson said with a chuckle.

Dan shook his head. "She didn't do any convincing, other than by just being herself. She's unlike anyone I ever met before. She's completely…open, I guess is the best way to put it. Everything about her is exactly as it seems. She didn't even know what a lie was until she heard the word from me. Watching her learn, helping her, has been a privilege."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"Why?" he demanded, instantly on guard.

"Uhhh…habit, I guess. She's not wanted, remember?"

Daniel regarded the officer critically for a little longer, then admitted, "No, I don't know where she is."

Nelson studied him in return. "You really don't. And you're worried."

He nodded. "We had a pretty serious…misunderstanding, and we weren't done working it out when you pulled up and I told her to hightail it out the back door." He added in a low voice, "I hope she comes back."

"She has to. Where else has she got to go?"

"I hope she comes back for a better reason than that."

He grunted, then inquired, "What sort of a misunderstanding?"

"A very personal one," Dan replied in a tone that discouraged any further prying, then said, "Really took me by surprise, though. She flipped from happy to mad-as-hell in a matter of seconds."

Nelson chuckled. "Sounds like my daughter — but she's four."

Daniel pondered that. "I think she _is_ like a child in a lot of ways, right now. In a sense, she's less than a day old. She's learning fast, but there's still a long way to go. I'm doing my best to help her."

Nelson objected, "We were trying to help her too, until she turned on us."

Dan shook his head. "Think about how it looked to her. You were the first people she'd ever met, and you were in uniform, armed, hostile, and belligerent. She saw you as enemy soldiers, even if she wasn't consciously aware of it. She made one move to defend herself and you started shooting at her, confirming that you were enemies."

"But you weren't."

"I wasn't wearing a uniform, wasn't armed, didn't march up to her like she was a suspect, and I helped her against the enemy. That made me a friendly, at least provisionally."

" _Real_ friendly, from what I could see," Nelson jibed. "She acted like you were her long-lost brother or something."

"Well, I was the first person who was nice to her," he said scornfully. "The first to treat her like a person instead of a problem. And," he added thoughtfully, "it could be she sort of imprinted on me. Like the way a new-hatched bird follows and imitates the first thing it sees. I know she's not a bird, but she had no memory of anything before she appeared there. She could have been in an extremely…receptive state of mind."

"So _that's_ why she latched onto you," he said disparagingly. "I wondered why she went for a, um…"

"A nobody like me?" he completed the sentence, caustically. "Of course you'd think that, just like so many others. I'm not tall enough, not rich enough, not macho enough, I don't live in a huge house or drive a stupidly expensive car. I'm so fucking ordinary nobody ever sees me."

"No offense, I didn't mean—" Nelson started defensively.

"You probably didn't. Nobody does. But they judge me, just the same, based on irrelevant things like height. They literally look down on me." He stuck his foot out. "You see these boots? When I wear these I'm five-foot-ten, instead of five-foot-eight, and people treat me different. Why? I'm still the same old me. How does a few inches make me a better person? Does it make me smarter, or more honest?"

The officer, who was a good couple of inches taller than him even with the boots, didn't have an answer.

"She's different. She doesn't have a lifetime of cultural programming that tells her to judge me based on such superficial criteria. She judged me by what I _did_. How I treated her. How I _listened_ to her. You got any idea how good that feels after a lifetime of being brushed off because I don't _measure up?_ "

Nelson shook his head.

"No, you wouldn't. You lucked out; you got the tall genes. You don't know how it feels to have people dismiss you at a glance. And then they wonder why I don't like it."

They looked at each other for a time before Dan continued, "She's better than any of us, you know. Her mind hasn't been poisoned by a life spent in this sorry society. She's never been lied to, or cheated, or robbed, or betrayed; she hasn't been exposed to greed, corruption and depravity. She trusts me, because she's never been taught _not_ to trust. She _believes_ in me, and I… I _will not_ let her down, or let anybody take advantage of her."

"You're saying she…" Nelson trailed off uncertainly.

"She's completely innocent. She won't stay that way for long, not after she sees the way we treat each other, but I hope she doesn't lose all of it." He chuckled nastily. "Don't worry about her, though. I'm cynical and suspicious enough for both of us."

After another uncomfortable silence Nelson said, "She's not coming back while I'm here, is she?"

"No," Dan said bluntly. "It's not so much that I don't trust _you_ , but you're also the San Diego Police Department. I can't afford to trust that combination on her behalf."

"Can't blame you, really," he said reluctantly. "And this way I can honestly say I haven't seen her."

"There's something you could do," he said cautiously. Nelson looked at him curiously, and he went on, "Can you be downtown tomorrow morning, at ten o'clock, near the Mayor's office? Morales and Rozza, too, if possible. It might be a good idea to have the people who've seen her before on hand, to, um…"

"Maintain calm?"

"Something like that. If the police are already there, acting like nothing is wrong, it could help."

He cracked a grin. "Wouldn't want to miss the show."

"It should be a good one. I'm going to go for flashy, but not threatening."

"Good thinking." He stood up. "Well, back to protecting the public."

Dan stood, too, and led the way to the front door. As he opened it the officer said, "You've been helpful. Again."

"Well, I said I'd help any way I can."

"Actually, just talking to somebody else that was there helped. It still feels unreal."

He laughed. "You mean I missed a great chance to fuck with you? 'What? Woman with purple hair? Disappearing sword? She _flew?_ You been smoking something you shouldn't?' What a waste!"

"That wouldn't be funny."

"Maybe not," he admitted.

They shook hands, and Nelson parted with, "See you tomorrow morning."

He watched until the squad car drove out of sight, then shut and locked the security door, and the front door.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

I tried, and tried, to think of a plausible way for an average guy to get a woman from another planet out of the trouble she was in. Nothing seemed to work. I couldn't see any alternative to confrontation, and escalation. Then I wondered: What if she wasn't _in_ trouble? Which led straight to, How could she not be?

What if nobody believed the three cops? I had originally planned for the cameras to record, and have the space-girl emit interference that corrupted the data, but that would still be evidence of _something_. Like Ellie Arroway's camera in 'Contact' recording eighteen hours of static. I needed them to not record at all, even though they were switched on. And, of course, radios, computers and cell phones had to be unable to communicate.

What if, instead of emitting interference, she made all their electronic equipment simply stop working? Thus hatched the electromagnetic suppressor field, which blocks all electrical activity. Like her shield, it was switched on for her before she was transported, extending out a few feet beyond the crater.

It took a lot of searching and reading, but I confirmed that the compressed gas in a Taser cartridge is fired electrically, rendering Tasers as dead as everything else.

So, they have no evidence, but would _everybody_ think they were lying? Surely not. Well, what if there was one self-important narrow-minded bureaucratic asshole, already resentful over getting stuck working on Sunday? They report something crazy, he refuses to believe them…

I know nerve impulses are electrochemical, but I say blocking ion transport in almost nonconductive nerve cells takes much greater field intensity than stopping free electron flow in highly conductive wires.

If the field _were_ made strong enough to stop nerve impulses…

The result would be instant absolute death, leaving no evidence of the cause. She could be equipped with the weaponized version, and hasn't discovered it yet.


	4. Life…Imitates Art?

**Life…Imitates Art?**

Daniel opened the door and started to step into the laundry room. In a blink Tovala was there, already inside. He stopped — surprised, relieved, anxious, but still uncertain where they were, how she felt. What would she do? He said, hesitantly, "Tovala?"

She rushed to him and threw her arms around him. As if she, too, had been in suspense, waiting to see what he did. He held her in return, as she said in a small voice, "I'm sorry, Daniel."

"So am I. It's okay now," he reassured her, and himself. "Everything's okay. As long as you're not mad at me any more."

"I'm not," she mumbled, downcast. "Are you mad at me?"

"No! I was never mad at you." He chuckled nervously. "You did sort of scare the shit out of me, though."

"I'm sorry."

"That's all right. It wasn't your fault."

She shook her head. "It must be. It wasn't yours."

"Maybe it wasn't anybody's fault." He held her a little tighter. "It was just something that happened, because of things both of us didn't know."

She considered that, then said, "I still think… _I_ made the mistake. Not you."

"I made mistakes, too," he insisted. "Everybody makes mistakes, sometimes. It's what we do _after_ we make a mistake that determines what kind of people we are. Some try to deny their mistakes, or blame them on somebody else, and that's wrong. We have to admit our mistakes, and apologize for them, and try to do better." He looked into her eyes again. "I apologize for the mistakes I made, and I'm going to do better from now on."

"Oh," she said quietly. "I, um, apologize for my mistakes, too. I'll try to do better."

"It's all right," he repeated. "I forgive you, even though I still don't think it was your fault."

She didn't answer, but squeezed him tighter. They stood in the doorway for a long minute before he asked, "Will you come back inside, and sit with me?"

She nodded. They got through the door and he shut it behind them. He led the way back to the living room and took the right-hand end of the couch, letting her decide where to sit. She immediately sat close beside him, and leaned against him. She seemed subdued and uncertain, so he asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm better now," she said dully. "I won't point my sword at you again."

"That's great, but, I mean, are _you_ all right?" he asked again, insistently. "You seem down—"

"Am _I_ all right?" she echoed, incredulous. "I was threatening you with a sword that can chop a car in half, you say I scared the shit out of you, and you…" she stared at him and shook her head in disbelief, "…you want to know if _I_ feel all right?"

"Sounds like you don't," he said. "Sounds like you still feel guilty. It's okay, I forgive you."

"I know what that means…" she said uncertainly, "…but I don't feel any better."

"Oh," he said somberly, and looked into her eyes. "You have to forgive yourself, too. You can't go on feeling guilty about something that wasn't your fault."

"How…?"

"I might be able to help. Will you let me try?"

She gave him a small nod. "Mmm-hmm."

He turned towards her. "Then face me…" She looked at him blankly, then turned towards him. He put his arms around her. "…and hold on to me." She hesitated again, before she did. He smiled and said, "Does this feel good?"

She nodded again. "Mmm-hmm." They sat like that until she asked uncertainly, "What should I say?"

"Anything you want. Or nothing."

"I…I don't understand."

"What's to understand? Do you feel a little better now?"

She contemplated that. "I…think…I do."

"Then it's working."

She considered again. "Oh."

After a minute she suddenly clutched him tight and tucked her head against his neck. He squeezed her in return and whispered, "It's going to be okay."

"Why are you so nice to me?" she mumbled. "Why aren't you mad at me? I thought you'd hate me."

"I didn't! Not for one second," he said emphatically. "You'd have to do a **lot** worse things than yell at me and wave a sword around, to make me hate you. A hundred times worse, at least."

"What I did was bad enough." She was plainly wallowing in guilt, and making no effort to pretend otherwise. Why was she so troubled by her display of temper, out of all proportion to the cause? He was ready to dismiss the incident as a misunderstanding, no harm done, but she was still consumed with angst over it.

 _Well, of course!_ he thought severely, disappointed with himself. _She has no more experience with strong emotions than she has with anything else. Sex, desire, frustration, rage, remorse, guilt — she must find all those feelings confusing and overpowering, and she doesn't know how to cope with them. She's trying to do twenty years of growing up all at once. No wonder she's having a hard time!_

Tovala clung to him, trembling slightly. He tried to comfort her. "We all do things we regret sometimes. When we're upset, or angry, or in pain we can lash out without thinking. That doesn't make you a bad person."

"I almost flew away," she said tonelessly, as if she hadn't heard him. "I didn't want you to see me, after what I did. I feel…I don't know a word for what I feel."

He'd been in dread of that very thing, throughout his talk with Officer Nelson, afraid that when they finished and he went outside she would be gone, leaving him with no way even to look for her. Finding her waiting for him, not rejecting him, had been a great relief.

 _She doesn't deserve to feel so guilty about this. She needs to stop brooding about one minor loss of control. I have to explain those things to her, and repeat them until she understands, and accepts them. I hope I can do this right, and not cause her even more problems. I may not be the best person for the job in the first place._

He had never been what one would call 'good with people' — he didn't pick up on subtle social cues, and he seemed to give out a lot of the wrong ones. He didn't, really, _understand_ people, and many of the things they did made little sense to him. What was the point of gossiping about other people's personal lives, or spending hours watching a bunch of overpaid overgrown spoiled brats play a pointless game on TV, while ignoring the whole fantastic universe all around them? Why trust the fatuous opinions of 'celebrities' on subjects they obviously never took the trouble to learn anything about? How could they believe some of the things they did when there was no evidence those things were true, and a lot of evidence that they were not? He heard a dozen different logical fallacies so often, he knew them by name. He called bullshit on them sometimes, but nobody ever seemed to stop using them. He had made his peace with the knowledge that he would never completely 'fit in' and quit trying to conform to other people's expectations. If they laughed at him once in a while, well, no big deal. He laughed at them sometimes, too.

 _At least I won't be filling her head with nonsense! I will do my best to give her good advice, and trust her to make sense of things. She's done pretty well so far._

"I'm very glad you didn't fly away, Tovala," he said sincerely. "I wanted to see you again. I want you to stay here, with me. And what you're feeling is probably remorse. It's normal. If you weren't a good person, you wouldn't feel that way."

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Do you think I'm a good person?" she asked uncertainly, almost pleading.

She really was unlike any woman he had ever known before. Most of them would be lashing out at him now, seeking to shift the blame, or claiming they were 'fine' while secretly resenting him for not somehow knowing exactly what to say. Tovala was being completely honest about her feelings, and openly trying to deal with them the best she could. She listened to him, and did her best to understand. Without her memories, she didn't have any preconceptions. She took what he said at face value, instead of making wrong assumptions about what he 'really' meant.

He had been powerfully drawn to her from the beginning. Nearly everybody has a 'type' of person they are naturally attracted to, some subtle combination of features, personality and appearance that just feels _right_ on a subconscious level. Tovala was _his_ type. Most men would find her desirable; Daniel Evans found her irresistible. Her straightforward approach to dealing with her problems only increased her appeal.

"I'm sure you're a good person," he declared. "You haven't done anything bad, not on purpose anyway, and you regret the few mistakes you did make. I remember the second thing you ever said was, you don't want to hurt anybody. I believed you then, and I believe you're still the same now."

"But I _did!_ " she said in despair. "I almost _kill_ you, a part of me _wanted_ to kill you, and that scare the shit out of _me!_ What if I do it again? What if the next time…I do something worse?"

"You _won't!_ " he insisted, gazing into her eyes, _willing_ her to believe him. "Maybe a part of you wanted to, but you _didn't!_ I could see how much you were hurting, you blamed me for it, but you still couldn't bring yourself to attack me. There was another part of you, a _better_ part, and that part stayed in control."

She was still listening. He decided to take that as a good sign.

"It was just an impulse, that I triggered by making you stop…uh, what we were doing," he told her gently. "Everybody has impulses to do things they shouldn't sometimes, especially when we're upset, or under stress. As long as we control our impulses, instead of letting them control us, they don't make us bad."

She sighed, and leaned her head against him again. "I want to believe that, but, I feel…"

"Mmmm," he agreed. "Feelings and emotions are not always reasonable or logical, and you've been through so much today…it's no wonder yours are all stirred up. Anybody would find all that hard to deal with. I know I would."

"But…what can I do?"

"Well…" he mused. "Feelings may not always _be_ logical, but we can try to think logically _about_ them, and deal with them that way."

"I guess so…" she said uncertainly.

"Just keep in mind that you haven't done anything seriously wrong. You haven't hurt anybody, and none of the things you did were your fault."

"Do…you really think so?" she asked imploringly.

"Was it your fault you were dumped on some strange planet all alone, without any memories, and left here to fend for yourself?"

She thought about that, then shook her head. "…No…"

"Was it your fault you didn't know what the police were yelling at you, in a language you couldn't understand?"

She shook her head again. "No."

"Was it your fault they thought you were defying them, and attacked you?"

"No," she said, more conclusively this time.

"It wasn't your fault you defended yourself, either. You didn't know what was happening, who they were, or why they were doing those things. All you knew was that three armed enemies were shooting at you."

"I guess…you could be right," she admitted.

"And it's not your fault you felt insulted when I got you all turned on, and then just told you we had to stop, and pulled away from you. Your reaction was completely understandable, and I don't blame you a bit. You're still trying to find your way."

"But…" she protested.

"It's not fair you have to learn everything all at once, with only me to give you advice. All you know is what I've told you, and shown you, and I've never done anything like this before. Hell, I don't even know if I'm doing any of it _right_. If it's anyone's fault that you don't know something important, it's mine."

She raised her head again and looked at him. "But, it's _not_ your fault," she protested.

"Then maybe it's not anybody's fault," he repeated persuasively. "It's certainly not yours, that you don't know things you haven't had time to learn. Cut yourself some slack, and forgive yourself for making a few mistakes in the first four hours of your new life."

"…I'll…try…" she said, and essayed a small, hesitant smile.

"Good. I'll help you, any way I can," he said, returning a much bigger smile. "Allow yourself to believe you're a good woman. Look forward to all the great things we're going to do, instead of looking back and dwelling on a few mistakes we both made. Try to be happy again, like you were before that happened."

"I _was_ happy…" she said wistfully. "After I flew away from those police, everything in your world was new, and so good…I found you, we go for a ride, we eat lunch together…" she smiled at a memory, "…you kiss me. That was _very_ good."

He couldn't forget that kiss…or the others…or that one suspended moment when she stood before him in all her bewitching beauty, and nothing else. _I was right; she's **completely** human, in every way. She is every reason I'm glad that men are men, and women are women_. He couldn't stop his thoughts from running on, with guilty amusement, _and if I ever had any doubts about her hair color, they're gone now!_

"All our kisses were great," he said, then chuckled. "Although that last one was maybe _too_ good. I… _we_ , both kind of got carried away. We need to be careful not to let it go that far again, before we're ready."

Her smile faded at that reminder and Dan felt a sudden surge of annoyance and frustration. _Why_ could she not _listen_ , accept his assurances and get over one minor outburst? She really was like a child, getting carried away, acting without thinking, throwing a tantrum when she didn't get her way, and now, she was sulking. It must have showed on his face, because her expression became even more sad and lost. Now he was frustrated and annoyed with himself.

 _Tovala can't help acting like a child; what's my excuse? It's wrong to resent her, however **inconvenient** her problems may be for me. I should help her, as I promised, but how? What can I do, to pull her out of the blues? I've already said everything I can think of, and repeated most of it._

"What can I do, to make you feel better?" he muttered, half to himself.

"I don't know." She even sounded lost.

"Huh. Guess neither one of us has a clue what we're doing." He held her quietly for a while before saying reflectively, "Maybe, we could try another kiss. What do you think?"

She gave him a questioning look.

"We can't go too far, but we don't have to deny ourselves _everything_." He smiled, trying to reassure her. "It's sort of a custom we've got here; we call it 'kiss and make up'. A kiss to mark the end of an argument, and agree that it's over, and we forgive each other."

"A kiss would be nice," she whispered.

He smiled again. "A kiss. But nothing more, for now. All right?"

She whispered, "Yes," and leaned forward. Their lips touched. "Mmmm…" She moaned softly, pulled him closer, and parted her lips. "Mmmm…" Their tongues met. "Mmmm…mmmm…"

He kept his arms around her back, and his hands scrupulously away from any questionable places. The kiss ended, leaving them both out of breath.

"One more kiss?" she implored, with a shy smile.

He returned her smile. "Sure."

She'd been a little tense during the previous kiss. Now she was much more at ease, simply enjoying the moment. She sighed when it ended, and smiled again.

"I do feel better now," she said quietly. "No…violent impulses. I think it worked."

"Oh, good," he said with relief. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

They sat in a more comfortable silence for a few minutes. Dan broke it. "Those words you said — Adonai Merek, and Sandalphon. Where did you get them?"

"I don't know." she said warily. "They just…appeared, in my head, from nothing."

"Hmmm. Just popped into your head," he mused, then pulled away from her and stood up. "There's something I've wanted to show you since the beginning, and I think now is the time. I'll be right back." He turned and left the room.

He returned a couple of minutes later with a flat, brightly colored box, pulled it apart and opened the blue box that was inside. She watched with puzzled interest as he picked up a remote off the low table and switched on the big flatscreen TV, then another to power up the disk player and open the drive. He took a disk out, set it in place, tapped the drawer to center it, then returned to the couch and sat beside her. He closed the disk player and waited. Soon the TV lit up with a jagged yellow circle and some white words on a blue background. He pushed more buttons, there were strange sounds as a different image appeared and went away, the screen turned black, then white with black letters and a green shape, then black again with some more letters. A green landscape with gray hills in the background appeared and they heard nature sounds.

"That doesn't look like anything I ever saw before," Tovala said, perplexed by yet another bizarre aspect of her new environment.

He pushed PAUSE. "It's animation. An artist drew and colored that picture. It doesn't look real, like a photograph, but you can see what it is. A field, some hills, the sky, a few clouds. Right?"

She nodded slightly, still a little mystified.

"It's an art form, a pretty popular one," he elaborated. "What's great about it is you're not limited by what you've seen, or even what's real. The artists can draw and create anything they can think of, whether it really exists or not. The only limit is their imaginations, and they can come up with some truly amazing stuff. This one's called Date A Live, and there's something in it I want you to see."

He hit PLAY and the scene changed to grass, a rock, and a butterfly landing on some flowers. A wavefront of color washed across the screen, it flashed to the sky, a canyon, shaking, with rocks rising into the air, the sky again with a gathering swirl of clouds and a blue shape bulging downward. It reached the ground and a black ball expanded outward with thunderous sounds, ripping apart the field, a village, a city. A shot from space showed the black boil growing on the curve of a white-streaked blue and green planet. A boyish voice narrated:

"The Eurasian continent was attacked by a massive spatial quake. There were one hundred fifty million victims of this unprecedented event. And now…"

The screen faded to black, a strong chord sounded and the planet reappeared in a bright flash. Music continued as the image slid upward and more text faded in. "Uh-huh," he muttered, then pushed the FAST-FORWARD button twice and watched as the video flickered confusingly. "Now let me see…" There was a flash of black, then the screen was filled with streaky light gray for an instant. He worked the BACK button, then PLAY.

A teenage boy ran, another black ball swelled behind two buildings with a rumbling sound, the boy cried out and fell, a cloud of dust blotted out everything, the boy stood back up and found himself at the edge of a crater spotted with patches of rising purple light, they heard clattering noises. The boy's face, the crater again, this time with something in the center. A woman's voice sang slow, incomprehensible words to jingling music, and the view cut to a close-up. It started on an angular black-and-cream boot and panned upward, over a glowing dress, segments of purple armor, a girl with dark purple hair and a grim expression, her foot resting on the base of a carved stone pillar…

Daniel hit the PAUSE button when her hair tie became fully visible. "That," he stated, turning to look her in the eyes, "…is _you_."

Tovala's hair was a much brighter purple, her gauntlets and armor more streamlined and functional, the crater he'd found her in more than twice as wide and shallower in proportion, but those were trivialities. She stared at the screen in shock and slumped against him. The parallels were uncanny.

"Oh, a lot of the details are different," he went on, returning his attention to the TV, "but there are way too many similarities for this to all be a coincidence. Somehow, some way, this Koushi Tachibana knew about you more than ten years ago. Back when he wrote the original light novels, at least."

"I…I don't…understand," she managed to get out. She looked at him, confused. "I didn't—"

He smiled reassuringly and shook his head. "I don't think you had anything to do with this. It had to come from some other source, somehow. Somebody, somewhere has got to know something, and one of these days we're _going_ to find out."

"Are…you sure? That's…me?" she asked, still uncertain. "How can that be?"

"I'm positive — but I never said it made any _sense_." He chuckled harshly. "Hell, if I saw this in some half-assed Fan Fiction story, I'd call the author a lazy S-O-B with zero respect for the readers' intelligence. As it is…" He shook his head again. "There _has_ to be some reason for these…resemblances, other than some sort of impossible coincidence. We _will_ find it. Eventually."

"How…?"

"I don't know. We'll start with Mister Tachibana, and see where it goes." He slipped an arm around her and hit PLAY. The scene cut to the girl's face, then back to the boy again.

"It's…a girl." The narrator's voice was back. "What's she doing?"

Gauntleted hands gripped a long bar, the girl stood on top of the ornate stone pillar holding a massive sword, she leapt into the air and swung the sword downward. A blast of purple-white light swept across the screen and destroyed a building behind the boy in a huge explosion. "Not you too," a new voice said, a woman's voice, low and rich. The scene cut twice more and panned up, starting at her skirts and revealing that she held her sword pointed at the boy. Several progressive close-ups of her showed that the sword had edges made of shimmering blue and purple light, and blue light crawled in veins along the blade.

"I see," she continued, "So it's true. You came here to kill me." The scene pulled back, showing them facing each other with her still holding the sword on him.

He'd recently gotten a _really good_ look at Tovala's sword and seen that it was a little shorter, much narrower, and not nearly so ornate. A serious weapon, rather than a cartoon prop. The purple light that formed its edges didn't look like the animated version, either.

He hit PAUSE again. "Michelle Rojas even _sounds_ a lot like you."

Tovala was finding it hard to breathe. "She…she's threatening him, with her sword…like I did to you…"

He tightened his arm around her. "Hey, it's okay. We're over that, right? It's just a show, she's not really you, and it's not a problem."

"Wha…what will she do to him?"

"Let's see." He hit the PLAY button again.

The scene pulled back some more, then showed a rough gray surface and the boy falling back onto it. The music took on a more ominous sound, the girl advanced from left to right in close-up and said, "Do not try denying you are here to kill me." The scene cut again to show her pointing the sword at his face. "I must deal with you before the others arrive."

Tovala shivered and shrank away from him a little.

The boy raised his hand towards her. "Wait. Just wait, please. That's— that's not why I came here."

The screen split to show both their faces and the girl said, "What?" in surprise.

"I…I could never kill anybody," he told her. "Is that what you're here for?"

The girl seemed confused, then turned and looked up. Five bright lights appeared in the sky and resolved into five more girls diving in a delta formation, with jet-powered winged machines strapped to their backs and legs. Covers opened, missiles shot out and converged on the armored girl. She raised her left hand and a curved barrier of purple-white light appeared, stopping the missiles. "Why do they not realize the futility of their attacks?" she asked no one in particular, before the missiles exploded uselessly. The flying girls launched more missiles and the purple-haired girl flew up to meet them. She swept her sword around and more explosions spread across the sky.

"This isn't just any girl," the boy's voice observed, before she turned to look back over her shoulder. "If she's that strong…why does she look so sad?"

Fast-paced music played as the battle continued. The strange girl wiped out more missiles and the white-haired flight leader attacked her alone, first with an outsized gun, then a blue-white energy sword. They clashed on the ground and in the air until their duel ended in a great blaze of purple-white light that washed out the images. He pushed PAUSE again.

Tovala's gaze remained fixed on the blank white TV screen.

"Hey." He shook her gently with the arm that was still around her. "You okay?"

"Uhhh…" She nodded slightly, dazed by the animated combat scenes.

"You gotta admit," he said, "That is so much like the first time _we_ met, it's downright creepy. With three ordinary cops instead of the A.S.T. girls, of course."

She nodded again, numb.

"There's something else," he said. "Almost at the end of…Episode 3, right." He pushed more buttons and images flashed by on the TV as he scanned through the video. He found the right place.

"I'm on my own," the girl said in a tormented voice, raising her head, and the scene cut again. She wore a white blouse and gray skirt now, standing in a big red blotch with someone lying at her feet, her dark purple hair thrashing madly in a chaotic wind.

"This world has rejected me!" she cried, then thrust her right hand at the sky. Dark clouds swirled around a white light and she was struck by a huge bolt of black and purple lightning. Her clothing dissolved into specks of light, she closed her eyes, twisted her hands together in front of her and intoned —

 **"ADONAI MEREK"**

White light burst around her body, forming into her armor and glowing dress, accompanied by dramatic music. She stomped her armored boot, blue and purple light split the ground open and a carved stone pillar erupted through the pavement. She landed on top of it, her hand grasped a vertical black bar, she called out —

 **"SANDALPHON!"**

— and pulled on the bar, which was revealed as the grip of her enormous sword when she pulled it from the pillar. She jumped into the air again and Dan hit PAUSE.

"Those were the same words you used. 'Adonai Merek' created your dress and armor, and 'Sandalphon' summoned your sword from wherever it hangs out. You can see why I'd think there has to be some connection between you and Date A Live."

She nodded jerkily, still speechless.

"Hey, this is good news," he said hopefully. "Maybe we can find out something about your past after all. Wouldn't that be great?"

She nodded again, but something was bothering her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Did that bring anything back, or remind you of something?"

Tovala shook her head, still looking at the close-up of the armored girl.

"Then, what is it? What's wrong? If you tell me, maybe I can help."

She shifted her attention slowly from the TV to Dan. "It's just…" she stopped, then tried again. "She caused…so much destruction…pointed her sword at that man…like I did…we're the same."

"No, you're not!" He shook his head emphatically. "She might look a lot like you, she has to be based on you, but you're not her. You didn't blow up any buildings, or hurt anybody. All you did was chop a car in half when your enemies were hiding behind it, shooting at you. Oh, and melt a gun. Those are trivial."

She shook her head again, unable to refute his argument, but still unwilling to accept it.

"I mean it," he insisted. "We can take care of that. In fact, I've got some really good news. The police are not looking for you. You don't have to worry about getting arrested!"

"I know," she said. "Officer Nelson told you."

"Yeah, we—" he started, then interrupted himself. "Wait a minute, how do you know that?"

"When I was thinking about flying away, I wondered what you were saying about me," she said slowly. "Then I heard you, and saw you. I heard everything."

"But…you were outside," he said, confused. "How could you hear me, or see me? X-ray vision? Super hearing?"

"When I created my armor…it left…little…things, here. They show me, and tell me, what you did, and said." She sounded like she was trying to explain something she didn't properly understand herself.

The concept was instantly familiar to Dan. "You mean you left audio-visual surveillance devices behind, and they transmitted the sound and video to you, outside?"

"Uhhh, yes. I think those are the right words." She seemed relieved to have gotten the concept across successfully.

He was looking suspiciously around the living room. "Where were they? Where did they go? The same place you sent your sword and armor?"

"Oh, no, they're still here," she informed him casually.

He scrutinized everything in sight carefully. "Where are they, exactly? I don't see anything."

"They're all around. They are much too little to see."

" _Microscopic_ audio-visual bugs," he said with deliberation. "With transmitters, power source…" He turned his attention back to her. "How _much_ power? What's their range? How long can they keep running?"

"I…don't know."

"How do they _work?_ "

"I don't know," she repeated, regretfully. "I'm sorry."

"That's not your fault." She looked relieved to hear it. Another thought hit him. "Is that what you did the first time you kissed me, before you flew away? Were there some of those devices in your kiss?"

She shook her head. "Not the same. No sound or video, only where you were…" She suddenly looked agitated. "Oh, no, I not should have… I just… I _had_ to find you again! I'm sorry, I—"

"It's okay!" he interrupted her near-babble, and tightened his arm around her. "I'm glad you followed me, however you did it. They… _are_ harmless, right?"

"They won't hurt you!" she assured him hastily. "I don't want to ever hurt you…" Now she looked guilty again.

"You didn't, and you won't. I'm sure of it." He looked at her until she relaxed slightly, then asked, "What's the range on those trackers, then? How far away can you find me?"

"Very far. I don't know the words for how far," she said. "Much farther than we went on our ride."

"So, fifty miles or more," he guessed. "Hey, what about our other kisses? Were they full of tiny machines too?"

She looked surprised, thought for a few seconds, and replied, "No. They were…not needed."

"So, they're only deployed when they get a command?"

"Um…yes?" she said uncertainly.

"Makes sense," he mused. "You wouldn't want to waste them, and run out."

"They don't run out," she said, still unsure, working her way through unfamiliar impressions. "When some are used, more are created."

"Created, how?" he asked, but her baffled expression instantly told him that she didn't know. "You can somehow build microscopic bugs and trackers, without knowing how it's done, and use them without knowing their limits, or how they work."

She sensed that he didn't expect a reply, and watched as he continued to ponder the few hints she'd provided.

At length he posed another question. "How small _are_ those machines?"

"Really small," she said tentatively. "Very, very, _very_ tiny…as small as things can be?"

Dan was excited by her answer, but forced himself to ask, very carefully, "Could they be _molecular_ machines? Built up from individual atoms? Can they duplicate themselves, and make other molecular machines?"

Tovala nodded slowly. "Yes…that sounds right."

"Hoooo…leeee…shit," he breathed. "It's nanotech. You've got _working nanotech_ , right here in my living room. That's…" he took another deep breath. "That's more amazing than flying, invisibility _and_ a force shield." He chuckled. "Although I don't think it can beat stashing an energy sword in another dimension."

"So, this is a good thing?"

"I think it's going to be a _very_ good thing," he said eagerly. "We're just starting to figure out a few of the possibilities of nanotechnology, and even that little bit is tremendous. It allows you to build anything that can possibly exist by putting every atom exactly where you want it. All you need is a design, raw materials, and energy."

"Is that so important?"

"You being here changes everything," he declared. "That makes it even more imperative that we keep you free from the government. They'd want to classify you Extra Ultra Secret, lock you away and turn you into a weapon. You can fight them, but even if you win you'd lose. They're so certain they know what's best for everybody, they'd never stop trying. You could never let your guard down, never even try to have a life of your own."

She couldn't think of anything to say, and leaned against him, worried.

"The only way to prevent that is to keep them from _making_ you a secret. We have to let everybody know about you before they can stop us. That's what I want to do tomorrow, make you as big a public sensation as possible. Are you okay with that? Can we go downtown tomorrow and tell everybody about you?"

"Do you think it will work?" Now she sounded worried.

He sighed. "I don't know. I just can't think of anything better. Publicity and fame can be weapons too." He chuckled. "And you can't be arrested for possession. Politicians are particularly susceptible."

Tovala was about to speak when the TV went dark and the disk player made a rustling noise. She looked at it, then back at him, puzzled.

"The player stopped," he told her. "It's been paused too long. Let me shut off the TV." He picked up the remote and did so. "We can watch Date A Live someday, if you want to, but there are other things we have to do now."

"Telling everybody about me."

He nodded. "Making plans for it, anyway. Do you agree it's the best thing to do? If you don't want to, I'll try to think of something else. This is a decision I can't make for you."

"I think…I would like to meet more people. Will they be as nice as you?"

He chuckled. "Maybe some of them." His humor vanished. "Some of them won't be nice at all. Avoid those."

She smiled. "It'll be okay. You'll be with me."

He squeezed her reassuringly. "Of course I will. So, you want to try my crazy idea?"

"Yes." She giggled. "Let's fight them with publicity. Do you think we can win?"

"Oh, I hope so," he said fretfully. "I don't really have any other ideas. And, there's still a big hole in this plan. You're an illegal alien. That gives them all the excuse they'd need to throw you in jail." He added, bitterly, "They let millions of illegal aliens in, and do nothing about it, but they'd enforce the law against _you_ because you've got something they want. Bastards."

"Do you have another plan?" She peered at him carefully. "You look like you've got another plan."

"You're right. There is a way to keep them from throwing you in jail. _If_ it works." He regarded her very profoundly. "It would require you to make a huge decision, without any way to be reasonably prepared for it. That's not fair to you, but I think it's our best option."

She returned his look for a long moment. "What is it?"

Daniel shifted around to face her, took her right hand in both of his and gazed into her eyes. "Tovala, will you marry me?"

Her gaze turned uncertain. "I…think…I understand, but will you tell me anyway, what that means?"

"Of course." He smiled, squeezed her hand, and explained, "Marriage means a lot of things. There are legal meanings, and practical ones; social meanings, and sometimes spiritual or religious meanings, but at the root of them all is one single, simple promise: to stay together, take care of each other, and share everything that life brings to us." He flashed her a snarky grin. "Or throws at us. All the rest is just details."

She looked at him intently, contemplating his words.

"The legal meaning that matters to us right now is, if you're married to an American citizen — like, for example, _me_ — that gives you the right to stay in this country. You won't have to worry about being deported or thrown in jail."

The woman from _elsewhere_ was still studying him warily.

"It won't have to be permanent," he offered. "If we change our minds, and don't want to stay married, we can get a divorce. Go our separate ways."

Her lost look returned. "Is that what you want?"

"No!" he said with conviction. "I'm just saying, if you don't want to stay with me, you don't have to."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" she asked apprehensively.

"Only if you want to."

They remained still for a time, each seeking confirmation in the other's eyes.

Dan broke the silence. "Do you want to stay with me?" He tried to keep any hint of pleading out of his voice.

"Yes. I do." she said in a low voice.

He smiled, relieved. "Will you marry me, so we can stay together?"

"Yes," she said, more firmly.

"Will you kiss me?"

"Yes!"

Some time later, when the kiss ended, they both grinned at each other, out of breath. This time, Tovala spoke first. " _How_ are we going to get married?"


	5. Nothing Is Ever Simple

**Nothing Is Ever Simple  
**

Daniel grimaced at the inescapable question. "I haven't figured that part out yet."

"You will," Tovala said confidently.

" _We_ will," he amended. "Together. That's how marriage works. Might as well start now."

"How do we figure it out?"

"Same way everybody figures things out these days," he informed her. "We look it up on the internet."

He unwound from her, stood up, then stopped as the open box reminded him. He ejected the disk, put it back in its box and shut off the player, then walked around behind the couch and sat at the small desk there.

"If you move to this end of the couch, you can see the screen. If you think of anything, let me know." He pulled a keyboard and mouse out from where they were stowed, clicked the mouse, and a screen lit up after a few seconds.

"This is a computer," he told her as she found a comfortable position looking over the back of the couch. "This type is called an iMac, and I'm going to use it to find out some things."

Tovala watched intently as he moved the mouse around, typed on the keyboard, moved and clicked the mouse some more, and looked at page after page.

"Uh-huh…okay…no! Not a damn video!" He glanced at her. "Sorry, it's kind of a pet peeve of mine. Videos that don't convey any more useful information than a few hundred words of text are a complete waste."

He worked some more, then grumbled, "Another video. Why do idiots make all these stupid, useless videos that are nothing more than some jackass yammering on the screen?" He looked at Tovala again. "I can read a lot faster than some asshole with an annoying voice can talk. I remember things better when I read 'em, too."

"What you are doing is, read?" she asked. "I think I should learn read."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll help you with that, too. In fact, let's start now. Remember when we made up your name, I told you about our alphabet?"

She nodded. "A, B, C, D, E, F…"

"Right. Twenty-six letters, in order from A to Z." He moved and clicked the mouse a couple of times, and a blank white rectangle appeared on the screen. His fingers rattled on the keyboard, black shapes appeared in the box, more mouse moves and clicks. "There."

The box now stretched almost the full width of the screen, with two rows of large letters:

 **ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ**

 **abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz**

 **[Author's Note:** There are spaces between the letters on Dan's computer screen, but when I show them that way in my story, the FanFiction editor loses everything except the 'Z' — and I have not found any way to stop it from doing that. I had to leave out the spaces. The words he types after this point are exactly as shown. **]**

"That's what our letters look like, shown on a screen or printed on paper. Each letter has two forms; the top row is the upper-case, or capital forms, and the bottom row is lower-case. Both forms have the same meaning, except that upper-case is considered more formal or important. Names, titles, and the first word of every sentence should start with a capital letter. Sometimes it's done with other words to add emphasis. Sometimes a whole word is spelled in caps to make it stand out, as if you were saying it louder than all the other words."

"A, B, C…" She read through the alphabet quickly.

"Great!" he congratulated her. The keyboard rattled again and new letters appeared:

 **Tovala**

"Tovala," he said. "That's what your name looks like, in letters."

"Tovala. T-o-v-a-l-a," she said, almost reverently. "Show me Daniel."

"Sure." Keys clattered.

 **Daniel**

"D-a-n-i-e-l." She inspected the two names carefully. "They both have A, and L. All the other letters are different."

"Yes, each letter represents a sound. Both names have A and L sounds, plus others."

"L sounds the same, but not A."

"Letters can have different sounds, depending on what other letters they're combined with. Each group of letters represents a word, and tells you a lot about how it sounds. There are other things you need to know, to nail down the correct sound."

"That sounds…not simple."

"It's not. English is a very complex language with words taken from almost every other language, dozens of rules, some of which contradict each other, and some words that break all the rules. It's also a rich language that offers a dozen or more ways to say almost anything. If used properly, it can express exactly the meaning you want in most cases. Use it improperly and you'll confuse the hell out of everybody, including yourself."

"Oh…" she said with a slightly glazed look.

"We'll work on that later," he said soothingly. "I found something." He clicked the mouse again, and another box covered most of their reading lesson. "I thought I remembered this, and it turned out I was right." He read from the screen as she watched:

"Any ordained minister, priest or rabbi of any regularly established church or congregation, Judges, Justices of Peace, and County Clerks or their appointed Deputies may perform wedding ceremonies. Mayors of cities and boroughs are also authorized to perform marriage ceremonies."

He turned to face her again. "I just checked, and California doesn't have a waiting period, so if we can talk the Mayor into it, he can marry us tomorrow. Publicity will help a lot with that."

"Waiting period?"

"Some states make you wait weeks, even a month or more before you can get married. Good thing for us California's not one of them."

"Oh."

"So, we have to get the Mayor to do it. We have to convince him the advantages outweigh the risk." His voice shifted, as he started thinking out loud. "That he's more likely to get re-elected if he agrees, than if he refuses. That's where you always go after a politician, campaigning and votes. Oh, maybe just a hint of 'the right thing' too, especially if it's also good for his election chances…"

She was looking at him blankly. "What does that mean?"

"Uh," he said thoughtfully. "It means…he has to believe marrying us would be a popular decision, and refusing would be unpopular. That most people would agree he'd done the right thing. It means… _you_ have to be popular. People have to like you, and want you to be happy…"

"Hmmm. How can we get—"

A loud chime from the computer distracted her. Behind Dan, everything on the screen slid to the right. A large window filled with square pictures, and a few gray squares, now filled most of it, with a small dialog box in the middle. He turned to it, reached for the mouse, muttered, "No, this is not a good time to update iTunes," clicked the Cancel button and grumbled on, "…keeps nagging me at the worst times…"

Tovala looked at the screen, interested. "What's that?"

"iTunes. A music playing program."

"What is music? And what is Ann…eye…meh?" she pointed at a highlighted word.

"Actually, it's An-ih-may."

Tovala looked puzzled. "But, the last letter is E, not A."

"Sometimes an E at the end of a word sounds like A," he explained. "And sometimes it has no sound, but changes the sound of another letter, like, oh, 'hop' and 'hope'. Different rules for different words."

She replied with a low grouchy sound, then asked, "So, what is music?"

"We heard a little music when we watched Date A Live, but, um… well, here, listen to this." He selected a song and clicked the Play arrow. A woman's harmonized voice rang out:

Sayonara to sasayaku  
Minikuki sekai ni  
Akaku akai sono hane dubete wo kazatte

A stutter of drums and cymbals introduced a rising triumphal melody, heavy with strings. Tovala's face lit up with a smile of almost childlike delight as the voice continued:

Yogosareru hodo itoshiku omoeru  
Kono chikyuu de iki wo shiteru mono yo

Nikundeiru hodo dakishimetaku naru  
Kagami no mae betsu no jibun jitto mitsumeteru…

She sat enthralled through the song, smiling and bobbing her head.

"That song's called 'Metamorphose', and the singer is Yoko Takahashi," he told her.

She was still smiling, but puzzled. "That was very good, but the words…they don't fit. Are they in a different language?"

"Yes, it's called Japanese. Most of the songs in the Anime category are in Japanese."

"Does all music sound like that, or just Japanese music?" she inquired.

"There are a lot of different kinds of music," he said, then growled, "And some other shit that's called music, but isn't."

She gave him a now-familiar 'you're-not-making-sense' look, and he shook his head. "You'll have to endure it all too soon, and then you'll know."

Her look didn't change.

"Here, check this one out." He selected and started another song. Strong piano chords led into a more somber theme. A different woman's voice sang out the haunting words:

Kono sora no iku hate ni  
Mada mienu mirai no nami ga ari

Ikite iru ikutsu mono unmei o koete yuku  
Dare ni osowari dare ni koute iru no darou

Hito wa tsukiru inochi no aima ni  
Deau koto ni obieru ma wa nai  
Tatoe kyou de kono sekai ga owarou to shite ite mo  
Kimi o ai suru darou…

"I did not know music until now," she said softly after the song ended. "Thank you."

"That's 'Ongaku no Kara', or 'The End Of The World', by Angela. Here, you'll probably like this one, too."

The next song started with yet another woman crooning "La-ha-haa, la-la…" before strings and percussion set an almost martial beat behind her voice. Her words floated out, ethereal and even more haunting than the previous song:

Tokubetsu na mono wa  
Nani mo nai kedo  
Sono te ni tsukamu ni wa  
Juubun sugiru ai o

Shinjiru mono o motte iru mono wa  
Yuruginai ai no tame ni tsuranuku omoi o

Unmei ni tachimukaeru nara kono subete kakeru omoi de yuku…

Tovala sat rapt, smiling and with tears in her eyes at the same time. When the last chord faded away she murmured, "That…that was so beautiful," a little choked up.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, returning her smile. "That's 'Fate', by Kokia. I'm glad you like it."

"I want to hear more music," she said with an eager smile. "Lots more music."

"We've got other things we have to do," he told her, and saw her smile fade. "But I guess there's time for one more song. Here, how about something a little more upbeat."

This track started with sparse, single piano notes, then struck with a roar of guitars, drums and cymbals. The piano notes returned, then a woman half-spoke, half-sang staccato words:

Ouke no joumon o kugureba soko ni wa yorokobi ga ari  
Kegare mo meguwarete yuku soumei na basho  
Shu no sasayaki wa itsudemo areno ni michi o hiku you ni  
Idai na chikara to natte ken ni kawaru

The music swelled, and her voice with it, now smoothly singing:

Tsukiyo ga mabushi sugite kyouki o umiotoseba subete  
Tokihanatare yuku jashin ou

Inochi wo mitasu nara guuzou e to migawari o takuseba ii  
Sanbika ga ano hi miseta shukufuku wa tou ni kuchi hateta…

The music stormed to its conclusion, and ended with the same spare piano notes. Tovala's smile was back.

"That was 'Gurajioru', or 'Gladiale', by Yui Sakakibara's band Phantasm."

"I like that one, too," she said. "Is all your music in Japanese?"

"Oh, no, I've only got a few hundred Japanese songs," he said, surprised. "They're hard to find here in the US, and _way_ too expensive. Most of this music is in English. Over ten thousand tracks, everything from Sixties folk-rock to Nineties metal." He looked at the screen and clicked the mouse. "It would take over thirty-two days to play them all straight through, without stopping." At her sudden greedy expression he said hastily, "No, we're NOT going to listen to music for thirty-two days! We have to deal with the government first. Focus!"

"All right," she said reluctantly, gazing wistfully at the screen.

"We can listen to music later." He clicked again, and the screen switched back to his internet query about who can perform marriages. "So, where were we?"

"You said we have to make me popular." She might have lost all of her old memories, but there was nothing wrong with her current ones. "How can we do that?"

"Well, you've got a big advantage already," he said. "You're a beautiful woman. Women are perceived as less threatening than men in our society, and attractive ones are even more appealing." He chuckled and added cynically, "The only way you could top it is by being a cute, precocious little girl. Problem with that is, you'd be declared a ward of the state in no time."

"Okay…"

He got a little more serious. "Your story helps, too. You're stranded here, lost and alone, with no memory of who you are or where you came from, and you only know one person in the whole world—"

She reached over and put her hand on his arm. "I might only know one person, but I'm glad that's you."

He grinned, and lost track of what he was saying. "Thank…thank you. I'm doing my best."

"I don't think anyone could do better."

"I just hope it's good enough. I hope this works." He looked at her seriously. "I hope we can get the government to let your life belong to you."

"Why should that be so hard?" she wondered.

"Because it's the government," he said darkly. "Ours is better than most, but it still has its dark places and dirty secrets. Greedy bastards with power, that will do anything to get more. Or those with a Cause that's more important than any other consideration. All that matters to them is what they can take from you. Or, what they _think_ they can take from you."

"But, they can't, can they? Take anything from me?"

"I don't think there's anything on this planet that can hurt you, if you're on guard," he surmised. "You've got technology we've barely started to dream about; I don't see how your people could _not_ have everything we've got. I'm sure they've got atomic weapons, unless they've advanced so far they're obsolete. Even then, they'd still have to keep defenses _against_ them. We don't use…siege towers, but anybody attacking _us_ with siege towers would be screwed. I'm sure your shield will protect you from an atomic bomb."

"I don't know what an atomic bomb is."

"There are a number of different kinds—" He stopped himself there; he knew of at least four different types of fission bombs, and most of the designs could be incorporated into fusion bombs, too. None of those details would provide the answer she was looking for. "It uses a nuclear chain reaction to generate a huge amount of energy in a very short time. Millions of degrees of heat, and deadly radiation. One atomic bomb can destroy an entire city in seconds."

Tovala was horrified. "You think they'd use a bomb that can destroy a whole city against _me?_ What about all the other people? What about the _world?_ Why do they even _have_ such, such… _things?_ "

"Because our enemies have them," he said matter-of-factly. "If we didn't, we'd be weak. They'd threaten us. Since we do have atomic weapons, we can threaten them right back, and they know it. Nobody dares to use them against us, because we can destroy them."

She stared at him, aghast. "Are they all **_crazy?_** "

"No, I don't think there's any actual lunatics — well, actually there's one of 'em I'm pretty sure _is_ batshit crazy, but even that one hasn't been stupid enough to try nuking us. Yet." He chuckled. "But back in the Sixties, there might have been. The whole Cold War thing was so crazy, maybe having a few genuine nuts on your side would have been an advantage."

She really had that you're-not-making-sense look nailed.

"The ones we'll be dealing with aren't crazy — well, _probably_ not — but some of them might be…remarkably resistant to believing anything they don't want to know. Like that our trillion-dollar military machine is useless against you."

"Can we make them believe?" She still seemed very upset.

"I'm hoping we won't have to. If we promise to cooperate, and don't show them anything too threatening, they might be content to assume they've got _something_ they can use against you. If nothing else, they'll probably believe they can take you by surprise. I don't think they could; we've got a few automated weapons and yours have to be far more advanced. I'm sure your shield would switch on if something attacked you." Another science fiction story came to mind. "You could have other weapons that might counterattack automatically, too. Shooting at you when you're not expecting it could be very stupid and dangerous."

"Then…what should we tell them?"

"We tell the truth. Maybe not all of it, but if we lie to them, we _will_ be found out, and any deals we make go up in smoke. We might as well just declare war from the beginning." He considered, then said, "We _don't_ have to tell them the things we suspect, but don't know. Like that I'm sure your shield would stop an atomic bomb. And everything else they've got. That sword of yours could cut a tank or an aircraft carrier in half, just like that police car. All the other weapons you must have that we haven't seen yet."

She looked at him, worried.

He shook his head. "I keep thinking we should make up a whole script of exactly what we want to say, but after the first few sentences everything will depend on how other people react, and what they say. Going blindly through a prepared script might get us in more trouble than just winging it." He looked at her. "What do you think?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. What would I know?"

"Hey, don't say that." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Just because you lost your memories, doesn't mean you can't have good ideas. I don't know everything, I can't think of everything, and I could really use any help you can give me."

She squeezed back. "…all right…" she said uncertainly.

"…but nothing comes to mind just at the moment?" he finished for her with a wry smile.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Sorry."

He squeezed her hand again. "No need to apologize. You can't just force yourself to have an idea. Just let me know if you think of anything."

"All right," she said, a little more positively.

"Okay, so, then, where were we…oh, yeah, script, or no script?"

They thought about that for a minute, then Tovala said, "You didn't make up a script for me."

He chuckled. "You didn't give me a chance. You were just _there_. Bam! I had to make up everything on the fly."

"I think you did very good," she assured him.

"Thanks, but you were easy. You wanted to believe me. At least, you didn't want to _not_ believe me." He frowned with worry. "A lot of people will find it hard to believe us. We have to convince as many as we can."

"You think a script will convince people?"

"Well…it would have to be better than trying to make it all up as we go along, right?"

"Would it?" She really didn't know; it sounded reasonable, but she had a feeling that things might not be so simple.

Dan felt a quick surge of impatience, but… _I asked for her help. She may not have her memories, but she's learned enough English in five hours to carry on a pretty complex conversation. I keep forgetting how extraordinary she is._ So maybe she had an idea, but not the words to express it? "You think I should just ad-lib it? No script?"

"I don't know. Is that the only choice you have?"

"Is that—" He stopped, considering her words, and speculating on the thoughts behind them. After a long minute he delivered a tentative assessment. "We could figure out the things we want to say, and how we want to say them, but stop there? Be as prepared as we can be, without memorizing some canned speech. That could be the right approach."

"Yesss…that sounds good."

He pondered some more. "I guess we should start at the beginning, then." He grinned at her. "Making a dramatic entrance. I think your Astral Dress would be the best—"

"Astral Dress?" she asked, confused.

"The dress and armor you were wearing when I first saw you. That's what it's called in Date A Live, anyway. But, without the sword."

"Because people would find that threatening?"

"That's right. I don't think you want to be scary and intimidating. We want people to like you, and feel sorry for you, at least a little. That might be kind of undignified, but it could help us get what we want. Is that okay with you?"

"I guess so. I'll think about it."

"Fair enough. So I introduce you…oh! You _fly_ in, and I introduce you, _that_ should impress 'em…" He mumbled and muttered, then looked at her. "Can you fly, and take me with you?"

She thought for a while and said, "I don't know."

"We should find out. _That_ would be sensational, if both of us fly in and land right in front of the camera." He added, "We'd have to prove it wasn't a trick, but it would still be a great entrance. _Then_ I introduce you."

Tovala was simply watching now. He went on, tossing up ideas, going over every angle, throwing some of them out and starting over. He started a new text window, typing, moving lines around, deleting, editing, revising. As he entered more and more words she asked, "Is it really going to be that hard?"

He turned away from the screen. "I hope not, but I want us to be ready for as many things as we can think of." He chuckled. "At least, telling the truth simplifies everything. We don't have to make up plausible lies, and then remember all the details, and try to account for the gaps where the lies don't match up with the truth."

"Oh…" she said uncertainly.

"Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of other reasons not to lie, but most people don't seem to consider the sheer and simple _impracticality_ of lying. Not to mention the risk that somebody will figure out the truth and bring all your lies crashing down on your head." He shook his head and added, "Speaking of which, there's a couple of things we couldn't lie about if we wanted to. That police car, and Officer Morales's pistol. They all saw what you did to them. We're going to have to pay for those, if we don't want you in big trouble with the law. That's going to take a lot of money."

"I don't have any money," she said in a very small voice. "I can't pay for anything."

"I probably could," he said thoughtfully. "I've got some money invested, and I could borrow more, but there might be a way you can get us all the money we need."

"How?" she asked, confused.

"Your nanotech," replied hopefully. "Can you make machines that make other things? Like, for example, diamonds? Pure carbon crystals."

"What does that mean?" she asked. "I don't know what carbon is, or crystals."

Daniel smiled; this was a subject he knew _very_ well. "Carbon is one of the commonest elements, the atoms that make up everything in the universe. It's got six protons, and six electrons bound to it — unless it's been ionized, but that's not a normal state. Most carbon atoms have six neutrons to keep the protons company, some have seven, and a very few have eight neutrons, but that makes them unstable. Eventually they emit a high-energy electron and decay into nitrogen-fourteen."

She looked at him blankly for a long moment after he finished. "That didn't help a lot."

"Hhhhhh. No, I guess not. Too many words that depend on other words, that depend on _other_ words…" He shook his head again. "Everything is so interconnected, to know one thing you have to know all these bits of everything else. I could spend all day just trying to define carbon, and never even get started on the crystal structure of diamond."

"Why is diamond so important?" she inquired.

"Because it's valuable," he said enthusiastically. "If you can make diamonds, we can pay for the police car, and get money for all sorts of other things. We can—" He stopped himself. "Of course, it would be _your_ money, for you to decide what to do with it."

"How would I know what to do with money?" she said, a little sadly. "I know you can buy food with it, but that's about all I know."

"You can buy all sorts of things with money. I bought this house, and my motorcycle. Everything in this room, in fact."

"I'd not know what to buy."

"Well, let's not worry about that until we find out if you can make diamonds," he soothed her. "If I can even define what a diamond is in the first place — oh, wait!" He got out of his seat. "I'll be right back."

He walked out the back door and was gone for several minutes. When he returned, he handed her a short metal rod with an enlarged end, used and dirty-looking. "This is a diamond grinding tool. The big round end has got hundreds of tiny diamonds bonded to it. It's pretty worn down, so a lot of them have probably been ground off, but there must still be some on it."

Tovala studied it closely for about half a minute, then murmured, "The tiny hard things that are only on this big round end?"

"Yes! Those are diamonds. They're harder than just about any other substance, and they're…sparkly. Most people place a high value on them, so if you can make some, we can get money to pay for the police car. And, whatever else you want."

"They are simple. Making them is simple." She sounded strange, almost as if she were in a trance.

When she didn't say anything more he prompted her, "Sooo…you can make diamonds?"

She seemed to come back to herself, looked up at him, and said after a few seconds, "Yes. I will need some things."

"Starting with a source of carbon," he guessed. "I should have most of a bag of charcoal out in the shed…" He stood there distracted for a short time, then asked, "What else do you need?"

"Other…things…" she started, then looked at him helplessly. "But I don't know the words."

Dan thought about it and suggested, "Let's look around. Maybe you'll know when you see them." He held out his hand. She took it and stood up, and he led her into the kitchen.

She poked around, then picked up a measuring cup from the dish rack. "This."

"A measuring cup?" he said reluctantly. "Does it have to be that, or… Wait a minute." He went out the back door, dug around in the recycle bin and returned with an empty pickle jar. "Will this work, instead?"

She took it. "Yes."

"So, it just has to be made out of glass, huh? Must be for the silicon."

"That could be."

"Okay, what else?"

She dipped her finger in his breakfast dishes, soaking in the sink, half-full of water. "This."

"Some water? That's easy." He guided her hand until she held the jar under the faucet and filled it almost to the top. "Anything else?"

"Something to put it in." She looked around some more, and picked up a pan from the stove. "Like this, but bigger."

"I think I've got just the thing." He bent down, opened a cabinet beside the stove, rummaged around and pulled out a large, shallow aluminum pot. "How about this?"

"Good," she assured him, then looked out the window. "It needs to be outside."

"Sunlight, for energy?"

"I think…yes?"

"Okay, let's take this project out in the back yard." He led the way to where some old boards were laid across two sawhorses and set the pot down. "I'll go get the charcoal." He crossed to a small shed, slid the doors open, dug around inside, and emerged carrying a blue-and-white paper bag. "Here we go," he announced. "Over fifteen pounds left, I'd say."

Tovala had set the jar of water in the pot. Dan raised the bag and dumped in charcoal to fill in around it. She picked up one briquet and dropped it in the jar, splashing some water out. She regarded the whole assemblage critically, then leaned forward and spat into the jar.

Dan was puzzled for a second, then chuckled. "Your nanotech delivery system is simple, convenient and gross." She looked at him uncertainly, and he smiled. "Never mind. It's fine."

She looked around some more and spied a small pile of rusty bent nails on the end of one board. She picked up about half of the nails and dropped them in the pot, making sure some of them fell into the jar.

"Needs iron, too," he observed.

Tovala smiled at him. "I think that's everything."

"So, now, we wait," he said. "How long?"

Her smile faded. "I don't know."

"Hmmm. Well, I hope it's hours or days, not months."

"I don't know what those words mean."

"Oh, of course, I never told you how we tell time." He looked at his watch. "It's been a little more than six hours since we first met, in that crater." He turned it so she could see it clearly. He was glad it wasn't a digital model, which would have made explaining its function harder. "This is a watch, a device we use to measure time. Right now it's almost four o'clock on Sunday afternoon."

She looked at his face, then back at the watch.

"The numbers around the outside are for hours, um, when the shortest hand — I mean, those three metal bars on it, the shortest one… Araauhhh!" He made a frustrated sound and stopped for several seconds. "I haven't even told you our numbers yet. Okay, that," he pointed, "is one." He held up one finger. "One." He held up two fingers. "Two." He pointed to the watch face again. "Two. Going the rest of the way around, three, four…" He continued to nine. "Nine is the highest number we use. To count higher than nine, we add ten," he pointed. "That means one ten, and no more. Eleven is ten and one, twelve is ten and two. After ten and nine, that's nineteen, we add another ten to make twenty, two-zero, and then twenty-one, twenty-two, and so on."

He stopped there, and waited until she looked at him and nodded.

He smiled back. "Good. Now, you can see, the thinnest hand is moving."

She watched it for several seconds and nodded again. "Yes."

"Actually," he corrected himself, "all three hands are moving, but the other two are much too slow to see. It takes sixty seconds for that hand to make one full circle, starting at twelve and coming back around to twelve again."

Tovala turned away from the watch again. "Seconds? Sixty?"

"Oh, jeez…I've got a lot of 'splainin' to do, don't I?" Dan grumbled. "Nothing is simple." He sighed fatefully. "Okay, see those small marks between the numbers?"

She looked back to the watch, and nodded.

"It takes that hand one second to move from one mark to the next. There are a total of sixty, ten times six. That makes one minute, and the long thick hand moves from one mark to the next in that time."

"It does move," she observed. "It's not where it was when I first saw it."

"Right. So, when the second hand goes around the watch face sixty times, the minute hand goes around once, that's an hour, and the shortest hand moves from one number to the next. In another six minutes and fourteen seconds it will point exactly at four, and it will be four o'clock. When the shortest hand goes around twice, that's twenty-four hours, or one day. The time it takes for this planet to complete one full turn and the sun," he pointed up and south-west, "to be in the same apparent position again."

She tilted her head slightly, gazing at the watch, squinted at the sun, then smiled. "I understand."

He smiled, too. "Good."

She looked at the pot of charcoal and jar of water. "The machines I put there do not make diamonds. They are making more machines. They will make more machines for three…ty hours, or a little more. When there are enough of them, they will make machines that make diamonds. Those machines will need about four-ty hours to turn all the charcoal into diamonds."

"Oops, I didn't teach you enough numbers. We call them thirty, and forty," he said apologetically. "The rest are fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty and ninety. After ninety-nine is a hundred, a hundred and one, and so on."

"Okay, thirty hours making machines, and forty making diamonds," she said more confidently. "That's seventy hours, isn't it?"

"That's right, thirty and forty is seventy." He peered into the jar, which showed no evidence of any activity after five minutes. "But they can only work while they're in sunlight, right?"

"Yes. If there is no sunlight, they can't do anything."

"Hmmm. We'll get about another three hours today, eleven to twelve hours per day after that, so we should have the diamonds in about a week." At her puzzled look he elaborated, "Seven days."

"Oh."

"How do you tell them what kind of diamonds to make? How big, what shape?"

"I…I don't have the right words." She concentrated and got out, "I sort of saw it, in my mind, and…gave, a lot of numbers, to the machines…" She looked at him helplessly. "I'm sure they're the right numbers, but I don't know _why_ they're the right ones."

"Sounds like you programmed the nanomachines when they were built. What kind of diamonds did you program them to make?"

"Small ones, like the ones you showed me."

"Can you change the program, or would you have to make new machines, with the new program?"

She considered the question. "I can transmit a new program at any time, but if it's after they make some diamonds…"

"They'd have to change the finished diamonds, or start over, and it would take longer."

She nodded. "Yes."

"Okay. Well, if you can change the program that easily, we don't have to make any final decisions until the first batch, the self-replicators, switch over to producing the diamond-assemblers, in about two days."

"Yeeessss…I think so."

"Then we're done with this, for now." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Hey, what did you do with your voice, when you, uh, got…upset, and said Adonai Merek, and Sandalphon? You sounded _amplified_ , somehow."

She looked away. "I…I was…"

"Come on, it's okay," he reassured her. "We forgave each other. Don't go on feeling guilty about it."

She turned back to him. "It's not guilty, not any more. It's something else, something like…I don't want you to see me."

"Oh," he said. "Sounds like you're embarrassed."

"You could be right."

"Well, I don't think you've got anything to be ashamed of. It was just something that happened because of a few mistakes we both made, and we both learned a couple of things." He chuckled. "We'll probably be laughing about it in a few days."

Tovala looked dubious. Dan backtracked to his earlier question. "How did you amplify your voice? If you can do that again, it could be real useful tomorrow."

She narrowed her eyes, concentrating, remembering. Her lips moved.

" **I THINK…** "

Dan stumbled back, hands over his ears. The sound was overwhelming, vibrating through his whole body. Her voice was as sweet and beautiful as ever, but _loud_ like the front row of an Ozzy Osbourne concert. She saw his grimace of pain.

" **I'M SORRY!** "

She said it without thinking, then clapped her hands over her mouth. With his hands already over his ears, her second phrase was not so painfully deafening and he heard more details. There was something extra in her voice, a resonance that made her sound even more impressive. The harsh edge of distortion he was accustomed to hearing from highly amplified sound was absent.

"I'm sorry!" she repeated, this time in her normal voice.

"Wow." He took his hands down, cautiously. "That was…stunning. You sound like a goddess." He chuckled. "A Thunder Goddess!"

"Too much?" she asked, still apologetic.

"Well, too much for tomorrow, I think. We want to impress people, not send them running. Could you try again, but, a lot less?"

" **Like this?** "

"How about, just a _little_ louder?"

" **How is this?** "

"That sounds about right. I think you've got it." He chuckled again. "Still a Thunder Goddess, but a quieter one."

She smiled. "Good."

He laughed at a sudden realization. "Jeez, I wonder what the neighbors think we're up to? People must have heard you a mile away!"

She looked worried. "Is that bad?"

He shook his head. "Naw, I don't think we really disturbed anybody in that short a time. Just surprised them, is all. It should be fine."

She relaxed. "Okay."

"All right, that's one thing taken care of for tomorrow," he said with some satisfaction. "Next, let's find out if you can fly with me. Or, if I can fly with you. Are you ready to give it a try?"

"Ummm…okay."

Daniel stepped forward and took her hands. "Let's start small. Straight up, and only a short distance." She nodded and rose into the air. His arms stretched above his head, and she ascended until he reached an altitude of about two feet, dangling from her hands. He looked down, then up, past her boots. "This is not working like I thought it would." He let go, dropped back to the ground, watched her land in front of him and shook his head sadly. "Superman did it better. Lois only had to be touching his fingers."

She looked at him inquiringly. "Superman?"

"Old movie," he explained. "And it didn't make much sense, now that I think about it. If they were in some sort of antigravity field, she should have been dizzy, and sick. No way she should have been acclimated to zero G. They don't call that plane the Vomit Comet for nothing!"

Tovala was learning, all right. She didn't say anything.

"It looks like you flying me downtown tomorrow wouldn't work. We could probably manage, but we wouldn't look very impressive with me desperately hanging on to you. And, uh, welllll… I don't much like heights."

She looked at him, concerned. "Then, what can we do?"

"Stick with what works," he said decisively. "I'll ride the motorcycle, you fly along in Cloak Mode. We can still impress people, we just have to make a few adjustments."

"What kind of adjustments?"

"Still working on that." He grinned. "We'll figure it out. Together." He looked around the yard. "I guess we're done out here. Let's go back to the computer and start with the figuring stuff out."

Tovala took two steps, put her arms around him and kissed him, quite energetically.

When he could talk again, he asked, "What was that about?"

"I wanted to kiss you."

"Oh." He grinned again. "That's a good reason."

* * *

 **Author's Note**

I sort of ran out of steam in the middle of this chapter, so it's a little late. I took some time off and read John Ringo's zombie books, starting with Under A Graveyard Sky; and then Tom Kratman's Terra Nova series. About a dozen books in all. That seems to have stoked up the boilers, at least for now.


	6. Fashion, News, And Pizza

**Fashion, News, And Pizza**

Daniel started to sit in front of the computer, then stepped back and guided Tovala to the chair. "You should do this. We need to find something."

She sat down, puzzled. "Find what?"

Dan grinned. "Your wedding dress."

"That would be a dress…to wear for a wedding," she worked out. "You mean tomorrow, when we get married. _If_ we get married."

"The right wedding dress can help make it happen."

"Okay…what should I do?"

"Put your right hand on the mouse, like I did."

"Like this?"

"That's it." He nearly touched one finger to the screen. "See the pointer? Move the mouse, and watch how the pointer moves with it."

She did, and within a few seconds she was running it all around the screen with an expression of childlike glee. He smiled too, watching her, until her curiosity was satisfied and she looked up at him.

"Now I want you to bring Safari to the front. Move the pointer all the way down."

She did, and a row of little images rose from the bottom of the screen. He pointed again. "Click on that one — oh. So, put your index finger on the mouse here," he set her finger in the correct place, "move the pointer onto that icon, push down and let up."

She did that too, and a large window dominated the screen.

He smiled. "That's good. Let's open a new tab. Click on that plus sign, up there…good." The image changed. "Okay, cursor is already in the right place…time for you to do some typing. I want you to put your fingers on the keyboard, but don't push any keys yet. Put your left fingers on A, S, D and F, your right fingers on J, K, L and colon. Like that. Now, move your left third finger up one row and push the W key…left middle finger up one, E…middle finger again, D, twice…right middle finger up one, I…index finger down and over one, N…left index finger one key right, G…use either thumb to push the space bar." He pointed it out, then put his hand on her shoulder. "That's great. You just typed 'wedding'. Now D again…left index finger up one, R…another E…third finger, S, twice. That's it, 'wedding dress'. Now stretch your right pinkie out and push the Return key."

She'd seen a few search result screens, but he hadn't explained anything about them. This one had a row of pictures showing women in long white dresses, with numbers under them; a map; and some 'sponsored' entries.

Dan pointed again. "Click on that word, 'Images'."

The new page had a row of pictures across the top, and a single column down the left side. "That's a pain," he grumbled. "Why did they do that? You'll have to scroll down a ways…here, move your finger along the top of the mouse…yeah, like that. Keep going…"

Down, down, down, until she reached a solid block of pictures that filled the page.

"Okay, that's what we're after. Look through those pictures, and if you find a dress you're interested in, you can click on the picture for a better view. Oh, you _can_ make one of those, right? The same way you made the clothes you're wearing now?"

"Yes…" she said uncertainly. "But…what kind of dress should I pick? There are so many…"

He shook his head hastily. "Oh, no, no, you don't want fashion advice from _me!_ I know less about women's fashions than you do."

"But…I don't know anything at all."

"Yeah, well, I know even less than that. Just ask any of my ex-girlfriends."

"Can't you help me?"

"Uhhh…" he felt lost, and slightly panicked. "Okay, I can give you a _little_ advice, of a practical nature. I think you should stick with traditional white, maybe with just a bit of color in a few places. That should have the best effect on the people we need to convince. And the skirt, you won't want it tangled around your feet or dragging on the ground, so I'd suggest about ankle-length, that is, just above your feet when you're standing up. Other than that, I'd say just look at the pictures and see if there's anything you like."

"All right…" She looked at the thirty or more pictures, a little overwhelmed. "What about you? What will you wear?"

"I've got a couple of nice suits, so that's taken care of."

She looked up at him, a little resentfully. "Just like that?"

"I know, it's kind of unfair," he admitted. "Men have it easy. A suit and tie is appropriate for all occasions. Women have made everything complicated, so every tiny variation of style and color means something, and don't ask me what." He chuckled. "If two men wear suits that are the same, it's no big deal. If two women wear identical dresses, it's a fashion apocalypse! Somebody has to change, or go home."

Tovala regarded him carefully, and concluded that he meant every word. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I."

They looked at each other for a few more seconds, and both started laughing. When they wound down, she said, "I could really use any help you can give me."

"All right, I can try. I just hope I won't let you down."

They looked at wedding dresses, and he quickly found that she _did_ need guidance, if not advice. A casual observer might simply dismiss her as easily distracted, but he could see that it was more a matter of her being fascinated by everything. The results were no different; she soon wandered quite far afield from wedding dresses, but she enjoyed her explorations so much that he couldn't bring himself to spoil her fun.

She was learning how to use the computer with astonishing speed, as well. She clicked on her latest attraction and expanded it to fill the window. "Does this look nice? Is it, cute?'

Dan knew a few words that might describe her discovery, but 'cute' and 'nice' were _not_ among them. The slender model did not resemble Tovala, but his overactive imagination had no difficulty conjuring up an image of his otherworldly visitor wearing — or almost-wearing — that sexy, skimpy, smoking-hot little number.

"It's very, ahh… Well, it _is_ sensational, but you can't wear _that!_ " he told her, then laughed. "Everybody would think you're from Planet Stripper!"

"Planet…Stripper?" she asked, bewildered.

"Uhhh…" _Uh-oh, I've stuck my foot in it now! Looks like I've got some more 'splainin' to do!_ "Well, there are places called 'bars' that serve drinks," he began reluctantly…

* * *

"So…men go to those _bars_ to watch women take their clothes off," Tovala concluded.

"Only a few of them," Dan clarified. "Most bars just serve drinks, and sometimes food."

"Are there bars where women watch men take their clothes off?" she inquired.

"Yeah, there's a few of those, too," he informed her.

"Why is people taking their clothes off such a big deal?" she asked, still mystified.

"Eeaauuuhhwww…" he groaned.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, just my brain melting down is all," he proclaimed flippantly.

Her face informed him that he wasn't making sense again.

"Yeah, okay," he said with resignation. "The thing is, you can't take your clothes off in most places…"

* * *

"But…I just don't understand _why_ ," Tovala said plaintively.

"I don't have the time to explain it all right now," Dan said patiently. "Just remember, the penalties for breaking those laws are very real. We can't afford to run afoul of the law in any way while you're still in this situation, so for now, could you please just take my word for it?"

She smiled sweetly. "All right, Daniel. I trust you." Her smile faded. "But you said laws are to keep people from hurting each other. I still don't see how you can hurt anyone by not hiding a few…places. Those laws are unfair."

"Be glad you landed in America," he told her grimly. "There are some countries where women have to wear heavy sacks that cover them from head to foot, and they can be killed for not wearing a sack."

"That is far beyond unfair," she said firmly. "Who would make crazy laws like that?"

"A crazy bastard back in the seventh century," he growled. "I'll tell you about sharia law some day, but only after you promise not to fly off and burn the entire Middle East to cinders. Trust me, you'll want to."

"Why would I want to do such a terrible thing?"

"Because you're a good and decent woman, and you'd be enraged by the vile things they do." He shook his head. "And that's enough of that. We've gotten _way_ off topic, and you just can't wear that…item in public."

"But…it covers all the places you said I have to hide," she insisted.

"Just barely!"

"Why don't you like it?" She sounded hurt. "Would I not look good if I wear it?"

"That's… _not_ …the problem," he managed to get out as, once again, his imagination presented her wearing it. "You'd look _too_ good, but not in a way that helps us. Take my word for it, wearing that would make it impossible to get what we need tomorrow."

"But if it's not against the law—"

"Those laws only cover the absolute minimum." He chuckled and added, "Literally. That's just what it takes to not get arrested. We have to get people to like you, and there's a whole lot of 'em would reject you, dressed like that."

"I still don't…get it," she told him in a sulky voice.

"It will take time, but just for now, will you listen to me, and take my advice?" _She's so much like me — never satisfied until she **understands**_.

She sighed. "Yes, Daniel." Her gaze sharpened, and her tone too. "But you _will_ explain it to me later, right?"

"I'll do my best," he promised. "Now can we _please_ get back to the wedding dresses?"

This time he kept her more on track, although she gazed wistfully at some of the ones he nixed. Their search didn't turn up any single dress that really satisfied either of them, but she assured him that she could combine features from multiple dresses almost as easily as she could copy one entire. Finally, he took her to the bathroom's full-length mirror where she spent a good twenty minutes fiddling with variations, some of them so minor he couldn't see any difference at all. He silently concluded that she knew more about women's fashions than she was aware of.

The end result took his breath away. It showed off her beauty in white silk and satin, without quite going too far, stitched in subtle patterns and trimmed with yards of delicate lace. She looked halfway between a movie star and a fairy-tale princess.

"Wow, Tovala. You look amazing," he told her sincerely. "Everybody is going to like you."

She gave him a dazzling smile, in the mirror. "Thank you, Daniel. Thank you for all your help, too." She swirled around and kissed him.

"Glad to help," he assured her after catching his breath. He glanced at the mirror again, and the black biker-chick boots barely visible under her wide skirts. "But for now, it's back to the computer. We have to find you some accessories."

"Accessories?"

"You'll see."

* * *

"Aaaauuuuhhh." Dan stretched until something popped in his back. "That's better. I think we're done with your wedding outfit. You'll be the most beautiful bride they ever saw." He smiled at her. "At least, you're the most beautiful bride _I've_ ever seen."

Tovala was back in her pants and blouse, for convenience and comfort. She smiled, a little bashfully, and couldn't think of anything to say.

The computer's time display caught his eye. "Hey, it's after six. Let's check the news and see what they've got to say about that crater." His expression turned slightly worried. "And, if they're saying anything about you."

He took her hand as she stood up, led her around the couch, and sat near the right end. She sat close beside him. He leaned forward, picked up the remote, and found that she had slipped her arm around him as he sat back. He grinned, put an arm around her and pushed the POWER button. The TV showed a gray screen with huge letters, then a picture of two wrecked cars, a fire truck, police cars, and an ambulance with a gurney being loaded into the back. The patient could barely be seen under emergency paraphernalia and an oxygen mask. A man's voice was saying, "—erious injuries, but she is expected to survive. The other driver, Miguel Fuentes, twenty-six, was arrested on suspicion of driving under the influence and driving with a suspended license."

There was a blare of music and the picture changed to a big FOX 5 logo, then a drawing and a lot of tiny words. "If you or a loved one has suf—"

Dan raised the remote and hastily pushed the MUTE button. "Why did they start letting lawyers advertise on TV?" he grumbled. " _That_ was a good law."

"What happened to those people?" Tovala asked.

"A drunk driver almost killed somebody," he said, disgusted. "I told you about bars, that serve drinks? Most of those drinks contain a chemical called ethyl alcohol. Drinking it makes you feel a little funny. I have a beer or two sometimes, but some people drink a lot more, and get drunk. I did that too, a few times, many years ago, and I just don't get the appeal. It made me feel dizzy, and sort of distant, like I wasn't really there, and then sick as a dog, and don't get me started about the hangovers."

"Alcohol is a central nervous system depressant. It causes that dizziness I mentioned, and disorientation, as well as confusion, bad judgement and lack of emotional control. It slows down reflexes, and ruins physical coordination. Drunks are much slower to notice what's going on around them, slower to react, and less likely to make the _right_ reaction. They can't even walk straight. If they get too drunk, they can't walk at all."

"Then the drunk goes out and gets into a car, a metal machine that weighs over a ton and can go a hundred miles an hour, and drives it on roads full of other people driving their cars. Because of the bad judgement, the drunk often drives much too fast while being unable to control the thing properly, and winds up slamming into those other cars, wrecking them and killing or injuring the people inside."

"For all those reasons, it is against the law to drive a car while drunk, but millions of idiots do it anyway, and kill more than twenty thousand people every year and injure many more. That drunk already had his driver's license suspended, which means he's probably been caught driving drunk several times before."

Tovala was looking at him, deeply troubled, and shook her head slowly.

"Yeah, you and me both." He squeezed her reassuringly. "This world has its problems, but all things considered, it's still a pretty good place." He gave her a smile. "If we get things worked out tomorrow, maybe you can help make it better. Wouldn't that be great?"

"Do you think so?"

"We can only try, and see."

She smiled, finally, and squeezed him in return. "Then we'll try."

"Good girl." He squeezed her again. "We can't make the world perfect, but don't ever give up trying to make it better."

Her smile grew, she leaned in and kissed him. "Mmmmm…"

 _I must have said **something** right_, he thought as she opened her lips.

Some time later, he had attention to spare for the TV. Now the picture showed a huge room paneled in dark wood, with curving rows of desks and a large wooden structure in front of them, with people standing behind it, and more scattered among the desks. He pushed the MUTE button. "—ocrats are still trying to gather support for the House immigration reform bill before the deadline on—" He pushed the MUTE button again, disgusted.

"That bill won't _reform_ anything, it would make things worse," he growled, then looked at her. "Most of the people they're supposed to be representing don't want more illegal aliens in this country, but those weasels want to bring them in anyway because that supports their own _personal_ agendas, panders to the special interests that backed them in the last election, and they need for the next one—"

She looked troubled again. "But…you said _I'm_ an illegal alien."

"You're different," he said insistently. "You didn't deliberately violate our laws to come here, looking for a free ride, with nothing to offer but poverty. You were dumped here against your will, and you've got no place else to go. You've got technology that can provide benefits we can't even imagine yet. And, there's only one of you, not millions. People will welcome you."

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes," he assured her with a smile. "I welcomed you, remember? Besides, by marrying you, I'm promising to support you, providing everyone a guarantee that you won't be a burden on society. They'll have no reason _not_ to welcome you."

"Okay." She still looked a bit dubious but didn't say anything more. They both looked at the TV again, but it was showing another ad. Dan left the sound off. The screen went black, showed a flashy car ad, black again, then another one. His boredom snapped about halfway through as the implications of Ancestry*com registered.

He turned to her, excited. "Would you allow them to take a DNA sample tomorrow? That could tell us a lot more about you."

"What is a, DNA sample?"

"They'd rub a stick on the inside of your cheek, and probably take a blood sample," he explained. "That part would hurt, but not too much. They'd analyze your DNA, your genetics, and… Well, I have no idea what the results would be, but that's why we'd do it, to find out."

She considered the idea. "Do you think I should?"

"I think it would help us in a number of ways," he said. "But only you can give consent."

"All right," she said after a long pause. "I will."

"Okay. That's settled." He had another idea. "Tell you what, I'll go first. They'll probably want blood samples from both of us anyway, because we're getting married." He looked at the TV. "Oh, the news is back."

He turned the sound on. They learned about a brush fire in Ramona and a robbery in Chula Vista, then the blonde anchorwoman announced, "A massive sinkhole opened up in Kearny Mesa this morning, demolishing several businesses. Our Sharon Chen was on the scene earlier today."

The picture cut to a pretty Oriental woman with shoulder-length black hair, holding a microphone labeled with a big FOX 5, standing in the same lot where he'd parked his motorcycle. Now the driveway, and the road, were blocked off with sawhorse-like traffic barricades. Two SDG&E utility trucks were parked behind her. There was a blue bar with **BALBOA SINKHOLE** in big white letters across the bottom of the screen.

"Thank you, Misha. Authorities are still mystified by the sudden appearance of a huge sinkhole in this Kearny Mesa neighborhood this morning. The good news is, no one seems to have been present when it happened, but property damage is extensive. Seven structures have been partially or completely demolished."

"Balboa Avenue will be closed from here, east of Ponderosa Avenue, to Ruffin Road until further notice. Police advise everyone to avoid the area, and stay away from the sinkhole. There have been no signs of further collapse, but sinkholes are unstable and unpredictable, and this one could still be very dangerous."

Dan chuckled. "Well, _we_ know it won't be collapsing any more." He chuckled again. "Unless somebody else gets sent to the same place."

The reporter had gone on talking, and now the view changed to an overhead shot of the crater, moving slowly around the edge.

"I think they're using a drone camera," Dan explained. "Wow, that sucker's _big_. I didn't notice it so much this morning. You made quite the entrance."

"I forgot how big it was…" Tovala was staring at the screen. "All just for me? Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe whatever brought you here could only make one size of…whatever." A darker thought occurred to him. "Maybe it was to clear the LZ." At her questioning look he elaborated, "Wipe out everything nearby so you wouldn't be attacked the instant you appeared. If you were a soldier."

"Do you really think…" she was troubled now, feeling guilt.

"I don't know. We might never know."

They watched until the segment ended. Another ad started, and Dan pointed the remote, annoyed, turned the TV off and set it down. "Not a word about you," he said, relieved, "so we're good on that score." He chuckled. "They don't have a clue what caused the 'sinkhole' so how about we tell them?"

He got up, left the room and returned a minute later with a small, flat phone. He sat back down, tapping at it with his fingers, mumbling, "Okay, Fox 5…here it is…ummmm…contact…Hah! Newsroom." He tapped at it some more, then held it up to his ear.

"Hi," he said, a little portentously. "I just saw your coverage of that Balboa Sinkhole, and I get the idea you might be interested in talking to a witness."

The phone gabbled for a few seconds and he said, "That's right, I was there this morning." It gabbled again. "Dan Evans. Clairemont." Gabble, gabble…

"Well, I got there about ten minutes after it happened. I parked in the same lot Ms. Chen did her report from, and then I walked right through the middle of it."

"Oh, not really, and there was a very good reason to do it."

"I know what caused it, too, but there's a lot more to this story than just the sinkhole. It's going to take a _lot_ of explaining. Could you have Ms. Chen and a cameraman meet me at ten tomorrow morning in front of City Hall?"

"I promise you, this is going to be worth it."

"Okay, I'll tell you something that wasn't on the news. That's not a sinkhole. It's a crater, and it's a _perfect_ circle."

"I take it you're more interested now?"

"There's not much more I can tell you now, and nothing I can prove over the phone. I'm bringing a visual aid everybody needs to see." He grinned at Tovala; she looked confused. "Portable, but kind of large."

"Well, even if I'm wrong, what do you lose? A reporter and a cameraman waste some time, and you could still get a usable story from some lunatic's wild theories about the sinkhole. I don't see a downside for your station."

"Hey, you're the first station I called. You're not going to make me call K-U-S-I, are you?"

"It's not a threat, but I really need to talk to a TV news reporter. You and Ms. Chen are my first choice, but you're not my only choice."

"No. If she'll be there, I won't call anybody else. You get an exclusive." He chuckled. "Until everybody else sees the story, and piles on."

"Oh, believe me, they will. But you'll still be first in line."

"That's right, the Concourse, off Third and B."

"Because I think the Mayor is going to want to hear about this, too. And, I need his help with something. You'll get footage of the Mayor making a very big decision."

"Ten AM tomorrow. I'll tell her what I know, and show everybody something they won't believe. This is a huge story, and I guarantee it will be worth sending her to cover it."

"All right, thanks. I really appreciate this. Of course, if you want to back out, let me know so I can call…that other station. Excuse the language."

He chuckled again. "Okay, bye." He poked at the thing one last time and it went dark.

"Looks like that's set." He grinned at her again. "Miss Visual Aid."

"What does that mean?" she asked, a bit suspicious.

"You're my visual aid," he explained breezily. "I'm going to show you to everybody to prove I'm not just making it all up." He grew more serious. "It's going to be hard to convince people, even with you standing right there in front of them."

"Why wouldn't they believe what they see?"

"Because they've seen a lot of tricks. We've got people called illusionists and magicians who spend their whole lives tricking people into thinking they see things that aren't real."

"Why would they do that?"

"It's for entertainment. People enjoy the spectacle, and trying to figure out how the tricks are done. We have to prove we're not just doing tricks. The crater will help with that. There's no trick that can make a hole that big. All the truckloads of dirt it'll take to fill it in will prove that."

She looked troubled again. "Why did it have to be so big, and destroy so many things?"

"I still don't know," he said. "Maybe something went wrong with the teleporter."

"What do you mean? And what is, teleporter?"

"I mean nothing about the way you were dumped here makes any sense. All I can think of is, something went very wrong somewhere. Maybe something went wrong with the machine — well, I presume it was a machine — that twisted space and sent you here. I'm calling it a teleporter just to have a name for it."

She still looked confused.

"The word is derived from two words in the Greek language: tele, meaning far or distant; and port, meaning move or carry. In English, teleport means to move something a long distance instantly, by changing either the object being moved, or the space between where it is, and where you want to send it. Then we add -e-r to the end, making the word for a machine that teleports things. So, I was thinking it's possible that you were supposed to be sent somewhere else, to a different planet, but the teleporter went haywire and you wound up here instead, with your memory scrambled."

"Is that what you think happened?"

"Oh, I have no idea." He chuckled. "That was just a wild-ass guess. It fits the few facts we know, but there are probably a dozen other possibilities."

"Oh," she said, disappointed.

"You know…if that _was_ what happened, maybe somebody will come looking for you." He chuckled again. "Some guy from the teleport company, apologizing desperately, offering you free travel for a year." Then he frowned. "Followed by a lawyer, all ready to 'help' you sue 'em."

"Do you think that could happen?"

He shook his head. "Not a clue," he admitted. "But, what if it does? I've been assuming that you're stuck here permanently, but what if you're not? You have to have a life out there, somewhere; what if you can go back to it?"

"Without my memories?"

"Maybe they can fix that, too. You've already shown me such advanced technology, I don't have the least notion any more what might be possible, or not. You could go back to being who you used to be." He added, reluctantly, "And if that happens, getting married would be a big mistake."

He could lose Tovala. Her old life could take her away forever. He was shocked by the sick, empty feeling that brought to him. _I hardly know her. It's only been eight hours! She doesn't even know **herself** yet! How can I be this attached to her, this infatuated, in so short a time? I've had some girlfriends, Joyce and I almost got married, but I've never felt like this before. I don't want to lose her!_

But if she _could_ go back…she could already _be_ married, or whatever they did, wherever she came from. She could have children. Her parents would be missing her. Hell, if their medical technology was as advanced as he suspected, her great-grandparents might still be around. Her whole family could be frantically searching for her, a dozen people or more, all armed with super-science weapons they hadn't forgotten how to use—

" _Do_ you think someone will find me?" Her question interrupted his churning thoughts.

"I don't know," he said helplessly. "Do you?"

She shook her head. "There is no way to know, and there is nothing we can do to find out, is there?"

He shook his head, too. "Nothing I can think of."

Another question struck him. _Why **did** I just assume she was stranded here forever? Hasn't she shown me enough to make me question everything I thought was impossible? Was it because I **wanted** her to be stranded here, needing to stay with me, depend on me? Or — was it because of Date A Live? Because Tohka had nothing to go back to? Tovala looks so much like Tohka—_ **no** _,_ _Tohka looks so much like **her** — did I just **make** her Tohka, in my head? Did I want her to **be** Tohka? Am I that confused, or that lazy?_

Tovala broke the silence again. "Three things are possible," she said firmly. "Someone could find me soon. Someone could find me later. Or no one might ever find me at all."

Dan parsed out her logic, and nodded. "That seems to cover everything."

"What should we do, for each possible?" she asked, still firm. "What will your government do?"

Her confidence seemed to have shot up all of a sudden — or maybe it had been gradual, and they'd just been so busy with the computer that neither of them had noticed. He had never seen her being so assertive before.

"If they find you soon, you wouldn't have to do much of anything. Mostly, just hide," he said slowly, working it out. "If it takes more than a few days, that will give the government time to mobilize their resources to come after you. They'd try to keep it quiet, but word would get out before long. Then, they'd declare you a criminal, say you're dangerous and violent, a threat to national security. Anyone trying to help you would be thrown in prison…you'd have to hide, all the time, and they'd be looking everywhere for you. The longer your people took to find you, the harder it would get."

"And if no one ever finds me?"

"It just gets worse and worse," he said dismally. "They'd be watching me, so you could never come back here. You could probably disguise yourself, change your appearance so you can't be recognized, but there are a lot of ways they could find out that you're still you. I'd never see you again. You'd have to leave the country, try to live somewhere else, but within a few weeks the whole world would be looking for you, every country terrified somebody else would get ahold of you and your technology. Some countries might offer you sanctuary, but never freedom. They'd call it 'protective custody' but it would really be just a comfortable prison, and they'd demand your technology as the price for their 'help'. You couldn't trust them either; they'd hand you over in a second if somebody made a good enough offer."

"Or, you could fight back, and use your weapons against them. I'm certain you could conquer any country, or even the whole world if you wanted to. You could be…the Queen Of Earth. You could take anything you want, force people to do whatever you want. Nobody on this planet could stop you."

"No!" she cried, appalled. "I don't want that!"

He smiled. "I didn't think so." His smile vanished. "A lot of people would. They'd sell their souls for that kind of power, and use it without a care for the cost. Especially the hypocrites that would claim they're doing it 'for the greater good'. You'll never see anything more diabolical than some idealist creating the perfect world. Give me an honest tyrant any day."

Tovala stared at him, dismayed. "Is that really what would happen?"

"I can't be sure, but I think it would be something close to that."

"You don't trust the government, do you?"

He gave her a slightly demented grin. "Of course not! I'm an American!"

She gave him the you're-not-making-sense look again.

His grin faded. "This nation was founded more than two hundred years ago by people who distrusted the power of governments, because they had experienced too many abuses of that power," he expounded. "They knew that government is necessary, that it must have some power to perform its essential functions, but they did their best to limit the power of their government to only that necessary minimum, and to prevent any one person, or group, from gaining too much of that power."

"Over the last hundred years, that government has grown completely out of control. If the founders could see how powerful, bloated and downright _intrusive_ it has become, they would weep. And, the safeguards they put in place to prevent abuse of that power are being broken down."

Tovala regarded him solemnly, for a long time. Dan didn't interrupt, sensing that she needed to work through their discussion on her own.

At length she asked, "If I am stranded here permanently, what should we do?"

"Go downtown and try to get married tomorrow," he replied without hesitation. "To save you and the government from each other."

"Would waiting a day or two make that harder?"

"Yes. Maybe impossible." He chuckled. "We would lose the element of surprise. Even tomorrow, there are no guarantees."

She gazed at him for a while longer, then declared, "I think you are right. If I am not found soon, it would be a very big mistake to _not_ get married tomorrow. If I am found, we have no idea when that might be, what my situation would be, or how that would affect us. We have no way to know the answer to any of those questions."

She stopped, then asked softly, "Do you still want me to marry you?"

"Yes!" he said instantly. "I do."

She smiled, said, "Then we should move ahead with our plans," and leaned in for a kiss.

When they finished he smiled at her, then realized, "Hey, it's supper time. I'll bet you're hungry again."

"Oh," she said, a little surprised. "I am."

"Okay." He thought for a few seconds. "What do you think about frozen pizza?"

"I think I do not know what that is."

"You _don't?_ " he said, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Well, we must correct that deficiency at once. To the freezer!"

Dan hopped up from the couch, walked into the kitchen, pulled the freezer door open and looked inside. "Two left." He pulled out a large flat box and closed the freezer as Tovala watched curiously. He checked the back. "Four hundred degrees." He turned to the oven and twisted a knob.

He opened the box, unwrapped a large pale disk, set it on a big flat pan, and put it in the oven. He smiled at her. "It'll be done in twenty or twenty-five minutes."

"Oh," she said vaguely.

"In the meantime, we can have some salad." He turned back, opened the refrigerator and got out a plastic bag and a tomato. She watched intently as he made them each a salad in two wide, shallow bowls, with small chunks of tomato, seasoned croutons and Italian salad dressing. He finished by sticking a fork in each bowl.

They sat at the kitchen table. Tovala watched him carefully, then started on her own salad, chewed thoughtfully, and smiled. "This is good."

"Thanks. Glad you like it." He realized suddenly that her lips had remained the same deep pink all day, unaffected by lunch, many impassioned kisses, and now a salad. It was either some high-tech lipstick all the cosmetics companies would kill each other for, or, not exactly 'natural' but…inherent. Like her purple hair. The delicate purple tinting on her eyelids, the darker shading that made her eyes look wider, and so exotic, must be more of the same. It had to be some very advanced genetic engineering. What other aspects of her appearance might be designed in, what secrets hidden inside her? What would her DNA tests reveal?

He noticed that something was missing. "Oh! Drinks. Just a minute." He got a plastic bottle from the refrigerator and filled a glass for each of them. Again, she watched him before sipping. This was her first time drinking from a glass, or using a fork…

"Mmmmm, this is good, too."

Dan smiled. "I guess you like cranberry juice." Something near the door caught his eye and he said cheerfully, "There you are. 'Bout time you got your fuzzy ass back in the house."

She turned and saw something small and covered with hair slinking around the perimeter of the room, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Come on, buddy, say Hi to the lady," he coaxed, but the strange creature continued to avoid her until it had a clear shot to bolt through the living room doorway. "Crazy hairball," he called after the fleeing tail, then turned to her. "That was Jake. He's a cat. You have to excuse him, he's that way with people he doesn't know."

Jake was in fact a large gray and black striped short-haired cat. Tovala stared after him, speechless.

"He just showed up here in the rain one day, completely miserable and crying. I gave him some water and a can of tuna, and he decided this was home. He's been here…jeez, over six years. He's a good cat, it just takes him a while to get used to people. Before you know it he'll be sitting right next to you, purring like a chainsaw."

She turned her gaze back to him. "A…cat."

"Yup." He stood up. "I'd better go lock the cat door, to keep him in." He went into the laundry room, returned after a minute, sat down and picked up his fork.

After a few more bites, he sniffed. "Starting to smell like pizza," he observed.

They finished their salads. He took the empty bowls and forks to the sink, pulled out a deeper bowl, got a small, flat can out of the refrigerator, pulled a plastic cover off it, dug out a brownish chunk with a knife and dumped it in the bowl.

He put the cover back on the can, picked up the bowl and headed for the living room. "This is Jake's supper. He usually eats in the kitchen, but with you here, I'll just feed him by the front door. Back in a minute." His receding voice called, "C'mere, Jake. Suppertime."

He returned without the bowl, stuck the can back in the refrigerator and checked his watch. "Still a while."

They looked at each other for a minute. Tovala asked, "Do you think we can get married tomorrow? Will that solve our problems?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "It depends on how convincing we can be, and the Mayor's assessment of the situation. I think the law's pretty clear, that he has the authority to do it, but the federal government will probably be unhappy with him. They'll want you under their control. The state government…hmmm. They might back him up. Especially if the Feds have done something to piss them off recently."

"I don't know that getting married will solve our problems if we do pull it off. I just can't think of anything else that gives us any chance at all. At least, not if you're never found."

She thought it over some more. "We have to prepare for me to never be found. It is…" She was uncertain how to go on.

"It's the most extreme case," he supplied. "The one that will screw us the worst if we're not prepared for it."

"Yesss…" she murmured, then regarded him thoughtfully. "Do you want me to be found?"

"What I want doesn't make any difference. It won't change whether they find you or not."

"I know, but…what do you _want?_ "

"I told you, it's not important." He chuckled. "What do you, work for the Shadows?"

She was learning fast. She knew now that he sometimes said very…odd things, and that it was best to just let them pass. She asked, "If I am found, what will you do?"

He swallowed uncomfortably. "I would help you, in any way I could."

"You would help me leave your world?"

"If you can recover who you are, and get your own life back…I don't have the right to deny it to you."

"Is that what you want?" she pressed him. "For me to go back, wherever 'back' is?"

"I want you to do what's right, for you."

"What _is_ right?"

"That is for you to decide."

"Why will you not tell me what you want, and how you feel?" she inquired plaintively. "You told me lying is impractical. Is hiding the truth not just as impractical? Tell me." Her purple eyes bored into his, insistent and…anxious. "Tell me, please, Daniel."

He couldn't resist, or lie to her. "I don't want you to be found," he admitted reluctantly. "I know how unworthy and selfish that is, and still I don't want anybody to ever come and take you away from me."

She smiled. "I'm happy you feel that way."

"You are?"

"Yes." She had that determined, purposeful look again. "I will not live my life in your world waiting for something that may never happen. I don't want you to live that way, either. We would both miss…so much."

He couldn't let it go. "But, what if your people _do_ find you?"

"Then we will, as you say, deal with it," she stated. "When we actually _know_ something, instead of making plans from nothing. Until then, I will live as if I will never be found. Will you still help me?"

"Of course," he declared. "I will always help you, any way I can."

"That makes me very happy." She leaned towards him for a kiss, although they were far enough apart to make it quite awkward. That did not stop either of them. After a minute she sat up, looked at the oven and asked, "Is the frozen-pizza done?"

"Not yet. Soon."

"It smells really good." She looked at the box, sitting beside the oven. "Is that a word? On the left side? It kind of looks like a word, but those don't look like the letters on your computer."

"Huh? Oh," he said, spotting the logo she was asking about. "They printed that in script, as if somebody wrote it by hand. I guess you'll need to learn that, too. It says F-R-E-S-C-H-E-T-T-A, Freschetta. The company that made it. There are other frozen-pizza companies, but I think this is the best."

"What are the other words?"

"It says 'naturally rising crust' and 'pepperoni'," he read from the box. "That means it's got slices of spiced meat on it. It's the kind of pizza I like, and I hope you'll like it too."

She sighed. "I don't know what I like." Then she smiled and added, "But it smells better all the time."

They waited some more. "What kind of meat is pepperoni?" she asked, mostly from boredom and idle curiosity.

He chuckled. "Mystery Meat."

She gave him the you're-not-making-sense look.

He elaborated, "It says 'Made with pork, chicken and beef' but all that means is, it came from a pig, a chicken and a cow. It's all ground up together with salt, spices and other ingredients, stuffed in a small sausage casing and dried. Then they put it on our pizza."

"Oh." That seemed to be her way of saying, _That will do for now, but I **will** find out more later_.

He got up, opened the oven and peeked inside. "Almost ready." He turned the knob to OFF, then got a large plate and something with a shiny disk on one end from a dish rack beside the sink.

"What is that?" She was still bored.

"A pizza cutter. You'll see what it does in a minute."

It was more than a minute, but he got potholders, pulled out the browned, steaming pizza and slid it onto the plate. He carried it to the table and ran the pizza cutter back and forth across it to make six slices.

"Be careful, it's still hot," he warned her. "I hope you never have to find out what a burnt tongue feels like!"

She watched, and imitated him as he picked up a slice and took a cautious bite after blowing on the end for a minute.

She chewed thoughtfully, then smiled. "Mmmm, it's good." She took another bite.

All else was forgotten as they munched pepperoni pizza, and sipped cranberry juice.


	7. Not A Perfect World

**Not A Perfect World**

Daniel looked at the plate. "Wow, we ate the whole pizza." He'd wound up subdividing the last slice, giving her three and a half.

Tovala sighed contentedly. "I like pepperoni frozen-pizza very much. Thank you, Daniel."

"You are most welcome," he told her. "Have you got room for dessert?"

"Dessert is, more to eat?"

"That's right. It's usually something sweet, for the end of a meal."

"I could eat a little more," she said judiciously.

"Then we will have dessert," he proclaimed, standing up. He set two small plates on the table, got a large flat rectangular dish out of the refrigerator and took off the cover. He lifted two fluffy-looking white pieces out with a serving spatula, put one on each plate and put the big dish away. He got two more forks.

"What is it?"

"Something Mom — that is, my mother — makes sometimes, and showed me how. Bake about an inch of angel food cake in a big pan, cook up a batch of chocolate pudding and pour over it, and top it off with a pint of whipped cream with a couple of big spoonfuls of powdered sugar beaten in. Can't use regular sugar; it turns out gritty."

"Oh." She watched him again, imitated the way he cut a piece with the fork, and tried a bite. " **Mmmmm!** "

He ate his piece, watching her. She seemed completely absorbed in her dessert, making little sounds of pleasure. When it was gone, she gazed regretfully at her plate, then smiled at him. "That was very _very_ good. You made it?"

"Yep. It's not hard to make." He chuckled. "Good thing, because I don't like to put a lot of effort into things that have to be done over and over."

She gave him a curious look that he construed as an appeal for more detail.

"It feels like a waste, to work hard at something you're just going to have to do again, and again." He gave another chuckle. "Or maybe I'm just lazy."

She smiled, and looked thoughtful as they both finished the last of their juice. He put the remaining dishes beside the sink, and took out his breakfast dishes and silverware. "I'm going to knock these out now, so they're done."

"Knock them out?" she asked, puzzled.

"Wash the dishes, so I don't have to do them later," he said. "You don't even know about washing dishes, do you?" He chuckled, this time a little sourly. "You're going to have to learn, whether you want to or not. Talk about something that has to be done over and over; nobody can escape washing dishes in this world."

She got up and stood nearby as he opened a door under the sink and pulled out a plastic bottle.

"You want to watch? I guess if you've never seen somebody wash dishes before, it could be sort of interesting." He picked up a yellow and green rectangle. "This is a scrubby sponge. The green side is a rough plastic mat for, well, scrubbing. I soak it," he held it under the faucet and turned the water on and off quickly, "put some dish soap on that side," he squirted orange liquid from the bottle and put it away, "and, wash the dishes."

He started with a small metal bowl that had been in the sink from breakfast, then washed each dish and piece of silverware quickly but completely.

"San Diego is almost a desert," he said as he worked. "Most of our water has to be brought here from a long ways away, a hundred miles or more, and the sources are limited. We should all try to use as little water as possible, so I wash dishes this way. It's one of the fastest ways I've found, too."

His tone changed, becoming reflective, and maybe just a bit defensive. "I have particular ways I like to do chores. One of my ex-girlfriends kept insisting it was Aspergers, but I think she's full of it. I try different things until I find the most efficient way to get the job done, and then why would I want to do it in a less efficient way? There are only about a thousand minutes in a day that you're not sleeping. How many of them do you want to spend on tedious chores that are never really done? I don't see anything abnormal about finding ways to save some of that time for things I _want_ to do. I've got washing dishes down to under five minutes a day."

He finished the last glass and set the sponge aside. "Now for the rinse." He turned the water on to a thin stream, barely more than a trickle, and set the metal bowl under it. He'd been putting the forks and spoons in the bowl all along. He turned each plate and dish under the stream, rinsing the soap off, back and front, and set them in the dish rack. By the time he finished the knives and serving spatula, the bowl was full of water and starting to run over. He swirled the silverware around, put them in the rack, used the bowl of water to rinse out the sink, set it to dry, and turned off the faucet.

"There. All done, and it only took about half a gallon of water and five minutes."

"Is that good?"

"I think it is. It may not be much, but I think saving some water makes the world just a little bit better." He pulled a plastic jug out of a cupboard and poured some small bits of…stuff, into a bowl on the floor near the laundry-room door.

"Cat chow," he answered her curious look. "I feed Jake some canned food every night, and he's always got this bowl of dry chow to munch on. There's a bowl of water by the bathroom door, too. Cats don't like for their water to be near their food, or for either one to be near the litter box. Which, I've got to scoop out later."

"Oh." She sounded slightly at a loss.

He put the cat chow away. "I need to use the bathroom again. Do you?"

She nodded.

"You don't need help this time, right?"

"No," she said, standing up.

"All right, I'll see you in a few minutes," he said. "And any time you need to use the bathroom, you just go. You don't even have to say anything."

"Okay."

This time he needed to take a dump. All too soon, Tovala would have to do the same, and he would have to explain the process, in detail… Fortunately, it probably wouldn't bother _her_. Only he would be tied up in knots with embarrassment. Oh, well. He would almost certainly survive the experience.

After finishing, he went out into the laundry room and scooped Jake's litter box. He returned to find Tovala sitting at the computer desk, clicking at Safari in a discouraged manner. She looked up as he stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "There is so much…and I can't read it…and most of it is not, not…"

"Relevant," he supplied. "Meaning it doesn't relate to what we're interested in."

"Yes. You understand." She smiled. "You always understand."

"My ex-girlfriends would disagree," he said with a chuckle. "Most of them would say I don't understand anything." He turned much more serious. "Don't ever believe what I say without question. I'll try to always tell you the truth, but I don't know everything. And some of the things I think I know might be wrong. I do my best to weed those out, but I probably missed a few."

Her smile grew. "I believe in you, Daniel. I will always believe in you."

He couldn't reply. He squeezed her shoulders and eventually got out, "I…will strive, to never let you down."

"That's why I believe in you."

He squeezed again, then pushed in with his fingers and thumbs, digging and kneading.

"Oh. Ohhhhh…" she moaned. "Aaahhh, that feels good. What are you doing?"

"You feel tense," he said in a low voice. "I'm trying to help. It's called a massage."

"Mmmmmm, it's nice." She rolled her head around as she enjoyed the feelings, and smiled up at him. "You're always so nice to me."

"I like you. I like doing nice things for you." He smiled, then got a little more serious. "And, I want you to be happy. I want you to like this world, and want to make it a better place."

"Like you do?"

"Yeah, but I can only do small things. I want to vote for the best candidates and policies, but for the most part we're stuck with choosing between bad, worse and oh-God-no! I try to pick the least pernicious of the options presented, but that's just one vote in a hundred million, and one idiot voting for the worst choice will cancel it right out. I don't have much money, I've got no power, or influence, or fame, no special-interest groups to raise hell and demand that everybody pay attention to me…"

She gave him an inquisitive look.

"I'm not an Oppressed Minority," he explained. "I'm white, male and straight. That makes me one of the Oppressors, not the Oppressed. I'm supposed to bear the guilt for all the injustice there has ever been, even though I had nothing to do with it, and most of it took place before I was born." He shook his head. " _Some_ people get so fixated on the rights of their favorite minorities, they forget the rest of us are supposed to have rights, too."

Tovala didn't have anything to say about that.

"So, yeah, small things. Save a little water, recycle, put solar panels on my roof, ride a motorcycle, drive an old car…" He frowned. "Misguided environmentalists want to make old cars illegal, and force people to buy new cars that get better mileage — but building a new car would consume far more resources, and generate far more pollution, than driving my old car for another twenty years. That's a trap you need to watch out for — ideas that feel good, but turn out to be the opposite of good in practice."

"Oh."

"For you, it'll be different. You've got technology that can change the world. Force shields, anti-gravity, who knows what else." He frowned again. "There are a lot of ways the world could be made better, but a whole lot more ways it could be made worse. You have to be very careful, making changes to something as complex as the world."

"I…think I understand."

"I think you do, at that." Daniel finished the massage and half-sat on the couch back. "Feel better?"

"Mmmm, yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So…what do you think I can do?" she asked, intrigued.

"I've only had a few hours to think about it, but I've got some ideas. What if you could give force shields like yours to our soldiers and police — Oh! And firemen! Now _there's_ an application… I wonder, does it stop radiation? I'll bet it does. Maybe a bigger version for vehicles…and aircraft. Shielded F-22's! And buildings. No more wacko fanatics blowing up our buildings with bombs and hijacked airplanes. Maybe an inside-out version we can drop around a suicide bomber, to protect everybody else?"

She gazed at him, fascinated and slightly confused.

Dan was on a roll. "And that's just your shield. Can whatever you did to cancel electricity be aimed? The police could shut down any criminal's car instantly. Well, it wouldn't stop an old-school diesel engine, but now they use electric fuel pumps and injectors, electronic controllers… Hey, most terrorist bombs are detonated electrically!" He let out a nasty cackle. "There's Mad Bomber Mohammed, frantically pushing the button and wondering why nothing happens! Of course, they'd figure it out eventually, and go back to chemical or mechanical detonators, but there's just not as much they could do with those."

"Then there's anti-gravity. We could build real spaceships, instead of damfool rockets that are ninety-five percent fuel and can only be shot off once…imagine what it could do in construction, or just moving things around in general…flying paramedics who can go _anywhere_ , rescue anybody…escape packs for tall buildings, in case of disaster…our soldiers again, with shields _and_ able to fly…"

She was still staring at him.

"Your nanotech might be the biggest world-changer of all. Making diamonds is just a quick and dirty way to get some money, but nanotech should be able to make _anything_. Like…drugs. Analyze a drug sample, and you should be able to churn it out by the gallon for practically nothing." He frowned. "Of course, the pharmaceutical companies that spent billions of dollars getting those drugs developed and approved can't just be left out in the cold, but I'm sure something could be worked out. Making insulin should be even easier. Oh! Heparin, so we wouldn't have to import eighty percent of it from China, a lot of it contaminated, or deliberately mixed with cheap chemicals to make it pass the simpler quality tests. That stuff is killing people."

Tovala waited long enough to be sure he was done rambling, then said, "Wow. You really think I can do all that?"

"I think that's just the _start_ ," he said, excited. "I'm sure there are a lot of things we haven't even discovered about you yet. Whole new fields of science and technology that can lead to…the most amazing things."

"What should I do?" she asked, sounding lost again.

"That, I can't tell you," he admitted. "I can give you some ideas, some advice, but I'm aware of my limitations. At least, I try to be. I've seen so many people make so many mistakes…made some myself, too…and I think I'm smarter than a lot of them, but I'm sure I'm not smarter than _all_ of them." He snorted derisively. "At least I'm not stupid enough to believe I know how to create a _perfect world_."

"But…you said I can change the world," she said, confused. "I thought you were telling me _how_ I could change it. Are you saying I shouldn't?"

"I said you can make the world _better_ , not _perfect_. Do you know how to create a perfect world?"

"No…"

"Neither do I. But," he said harshly, "there's no end of people convinced that they _can_ create a perfect world. None of them can agree on _how_ to create it, or what it should look like, but they all seem to believe they have to make room for it by destroying the one we've got, and creating their perfect world from the wreckage."

She looked at him, dismayed.

"To me, that's like blowing up the boat everybody is sailing on, in the middle of the ocean, because somebody thinks _they_ can build a perfect boat from the pieces, even though they never built a boat, or designed one, or even sailed one before." He chuckled. "And I'm sure there are sharks."

"Sharks?"

"Big fish that eat people if they fall in the water," he explained. "We've got a boat, and at least it floats. I'm opposed to sinking it."

She nodded agreement. "But…nobody would really do that, would they?"

Daniel scowled in disgust. "Some of them _have_ done it on a small scale, raising 'people's revolutions' to destroy whole countries and build their 'perfect' societies. Almost all of them have been miserable failures. They have their revolution, kill a lot of people, overthrow their corrupt rulers and replace them with another bunch of corrupt rulers. Viva la revolution! Yesterday's oppressed become tomorrow's oppressors, but it's okay because they're not those Evil Capitalists and Oligarchs. Yeah, they control all the money and property, but that's just until they create their Perfect Worker's Paradise, in a few months — well, okay, a few years — actually, it might take a few decades — ah, hell, these new rulers are as bad as the old ones after all, if not worse. Time for another revolution!"

"The United States was one of the few successes, mainly because the Founders were _not_ trying to create a perfect world, or even a perfect country, but just a better one. They studied the successes and failures of the past, and learned from them. And, they weren't destroying an existing society, but throwing off foreign occupation, and building on what was already here."

He shook his head dolefully. "I don't think it's even _possible_ to create a perfect world, when it has to be full of imperfect people. I don't think I'd want to live in a perfect world anyway. What would there be left to do? If the world was perfect, any change would by definition make it imperfect. Nobody could be allowed to introduce anything new, or retire anything old. I think after a while such eternal sameness would have to become a fair imitation of Hell."

"But for the ones that want to create a perfect world…no cost is too high, no sacrifice too great, no atrocity too horrendous. Their goal is so noble and lofty that it justifies _anything_ — like _changing_ all those imperfect people that won't fit in their perfect world. And if they won't change, if they can't be made to fit — dispose of them. We've seen that, over and over. When you start to learn about this planet's history, you're not going to like a lot of it."

Tovala gave him a long, serious look. "But…you don't want me to believe all that without question."

"Uhhhh…no. No, you shouldn't," he said reluctantly. "Believing without question means you're substituting somebody else's judgement for your own. They could be wrong, or they could be lying to you. I'm not lying, but I _could_ be wrong, about some of those things, or even all of them. I don't think I am, but we have to allow for the possibility."

She considered that. "Still, you said it for a reason. It must mean something."

Dan smiled at her. "I guess all that was just my long-winded way of saying, you can change the world — you can change it a _lot_ — but be _reeeal_ careful not to break it. And beware of anybody that _is_ willing to break it. Putting the pieces back together is a lot harder than most people think."

She returned his smile. "That sounds like good advice."

"Thank you."

She took her time formulating her next question. "So, what kind of not-perfect world do you want to live in?"

"Cheez, why don't you ask me a _tough_ one?" he quipped. "The world I want to live in…hmmm…I'd call it a good world. One where good people can live good lives, and bad ones can't take that away from them. Of course, that requires the definitions of who's good, and who's bad."

"The bad people are the ones that lie, cheat, steal, or inflict violence on people who never harmed them. The good people are…everybody else. The ones who don't make trouble, or do harm to others, except in self-defense."

"The good people are not all the same. I think that would be another kind of Hell, if everybody was just like everybody else. People are different, and a good world has to give them the freedom to _be_ different. Of course, there have to be limits. Some differences can't be tolerated, because they cause harm to other people, or take away _their_ freedom."

Dan scowled again. "Just 'offending' somebody should not be considered harm. Anybody can decide to be 'offended' by anything."

"Like, not covering up a few places?" she asked, grinning mischievously.

"Yes, that's one example," he agreed with his own grin, but it faded quickly. "Some people would be offended by the fact that you're learning to read, and use a computer, or because you're alone in this house with a man who's not your husband."

"My…husband?"

"The man you're married to."

"But…we're getting married tomorrow."

"I hope so," he agreed, "but I'm not your husband _now_ , and yet here we are. There are several groups that would be highly offended about that."

"But…why?" she asked, puzzled. "This is your house. We're not…they're not…"

"We are not affecting them in any way," he supplied. "They believe what we're doing is wrong, but we don't agree, and do it anyway. They find this offensive, and some of them believe they have the right to punish us for breaking their rules."

She frowned in puzzlement. "That doesn't make sense to me."

He smiled reassuringly. "It doesn't make sense to me either, so I ignore their stupid rules and do what _I_ think is right. Which includes inviting you to stay in my house when you've got no place else to go."

She thought about that, and smiled. "I think that is a good thing."

"So do I. I'm glad you're here." He went on smiling at her, then thought of something. "I need to use the computer again."

Tovala turned and reached for the mouse. "Can I do it?"

"Sure. Click in the address bar, there…now use the keyboard, and type in S-A-N space D-I-E-G-O space C-I-T-Y space C-O-U-N-C-I-L space M-E-E-T-I-N-G and now hit Return. Click on that…and that…okay, good."

He nodded with satisfaction. "It says the City Council meetings are at two o'clock on Mondays. I don't know what the Mayor will be doing tomorrow morning, but at least he won't be in a Council meeting. I hope that means he'll have time to talk to us."

"I hope so, too." She looked at the screen again. "Is there anything else we need to look up?"

"Ummm…can't think of anything right now." His gaze sharpened. "You're picking that up _fast_. You've only been using the computer for a couple of hours, and you're really good."

"It's easy," she said casually. "At least, I think it's easy. Is it supposed to be hard?"

"No, but there's a whole lot of complex programming that goes into making that seem so simple," he explained. "A lot of very smart people have been working on it for more than thirty years." He chuckled. "I guess they succeeded."

"So…if we don't need to look for anything…" She looked up, with a most appealing smile. "Can we listen to some more music?"

"Uhhhb…sure. There should be time."

Her smile got even wider and happier. He told her how to switch screens, back to the one with iTunes, and watched as she scrolled up and down. One caught his eye. "Oh, that one's perfect! There's a song for you. Click on the black square, with people in red…now number four…click on the little circle…Play Next, that one. Now up to the top…click on those blue lines…now click twice, there."

They heard a growl of guitars and a flourish of drums, a fast-paced melody, then a man's slightly high-pitched voice singing:

Living on a lighted stage approaches the unreal  
For those who think and feel  
In touch with some reality beyond the gilded cage

Cast in this unlikely role  
Ill-equipped to act  
With insufficient tact  
One must put up barriers to keep oneself intact

Living in the limelight, the universal dream  
For those who wish to seem  
Those who wish to be must put aside the alienation  
Get on with the fascination, the real relation, the underlying theme

Living in a fisheye lens, caught in the camera eye…

Tovala listened intently, smiling and rocking her head slightly, until the song ended in a thunder of drums.

"That's Limelight, by Rush," he told her. "You're going to be in the limelight tomorrow, so I thought it was appropriate. Now, there's something I want you to hear for a different reason. Scroll up, a long ways…stop! Down a little…the one with a man and woman in white. Number two…" She repeated the remaining steps without guidance.

They heard thudding drums, a 'pssh' of cymbals, and a woman's rich, warm, sweet voice singing:

After long enough of being alone  
Everyone must face their share of loneliness  
In my own time nobody knew the pain I was going through  
And waiting was all my heart could do

Hope was all I had until you came  
Maybe you can't see how much you mean to me  
You were the dawn breaking the night  
The promise of morning light  
Filling the world surrounding me…

The song faded out at the end, leaving her looking at him in wonder.

"That's Only Yesterday by the Carpenters. Karen Carpenter had the most amazing voice…and you sound so much like her…" He smiled and shrugged. "Maybe you'll want to try singing, after we get some things taken care of."

Her expression of wonderment intensified. "You think… _I_ could make music? Like that?"

"I don't see why not. Singing's not that hard. Even I can sing, some, and I think I'm not _too_ bad."

"I think I would like to sing. I think I would like that very much," she said softly.

"You can certainly give it a try, after we get the immediate problems taken care of." He smiled reassuringly. "That's one of the great things about a free country. You can sing if you want to." He chuckled. "You can't force anybody to listen, though." He thought of another song. "I know one you've _got_ to hear. Scroll up…there. The man with cards in his hand…number four."

They heard two strange 'Bowwmp' sounds, rapid-fire hollow-sounding guitar notes, and a man's voice:

Pssst! C'mere!

I hear the music daylight disk  
Three men in black said, "Don't report this,"  
"Ascension," and that's all they said  
Sickness now the hour of dread

All praise, he's found the awful truth  
Balthazar  
He's found the saucer news…

This song trailed off in wild guitar notes, drums and cymbals.

"That's E.T.I. by Blue Oyster Cult, because, well, you're sort of an E.T.I. yourself." he said lightly.

"That was…different."

"You didn't like it?"

"I'm…not…sure," she said very slowly. "I think I'll need to think about it."

"That's fair," he admitted. "Blue Oyster Cult's not for everybody. But, here, try one more. One row down, with the green stripe on top…number four."

The next song started with a much lighter melody, and a man's voice:

Perfect water  
The dark wind braids the waves  
The crazed birds raid the trees  
Is this our destiny?

To join our hands at sea  
And slowly sink  
And slowly think  
This is perfect water  
Passing over me…

She looked curious but unconvinced until it got to the chorus, then she smiled.

To flow inside the spiral tide  
To drop my eyes like a bride and ride  
Across the curve unmarked by borders  
It waits for me like an orphaned daughter…

She was still smiling when the last note faded away. "That was good. Maybe I do like Blue Oyster Cult."

"That would be nice. I like 'em, in case you couldn't tell."

"I did get that impression," she said, amused.

She scrolled down until another picture caught his eye. "Oh, now there's one. This is an eternal classic _everybody_ should listen to. The white one, man with a guitar…yeah, that one, number five."

They heard a thunder of drums, a wail of guitars, cymbals, and a man's voice sounding somehow forsaken, seeking something unknown:

In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream  
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines  
Sprung from cages on Highway Nine  
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin' out over the line  
Oh, baby this town rips the bones from your back  
It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap, we gotta get out while we're young  
'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run…

They sat in silence as the last note faded out. Dan blinked several times, and his voice was thick. "That one always gets me, a little."

Tovala nodded her agreement, and maybe her eyes were just a touch damp, as well.

"Oh, that was Born To Run, by Bruce Springsteen. Sort of before my time, but…well, eternal, like I said."

Tovala nodded again.

Once more, the computer's time display caught his eye. "Woah, it's after nine. If we want to get any more done tonight, there's not much time left." He brought Safari back on-screen.

"What more do we need to do?" she wondered aloud.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But if we forget something, it _will_ bite us in the ass. That's just the way the world works."

Tovala giggled. "Good thing I'll be wearing my armor, then."

"What about me?" he asked plaintively.

She giggled again. "How fast are your reflexes?"

He laughed. "Fast enough to hide behind you."

She laughed with him, a delightful sound, free of the concerns that had troubled her earlier. She moved the mouse randomly while they both looked at the screen, without ideas. She clicked a few items, for no particular reason, then tilted her head down, staring at the mouse. "Hmmmm..."

"What is it?"

She didn't respond, but lifted her head and continued moving the mouse, watching the pointer intently. She rubbed her finger over the scroll surface, clicked on the left side, the right side, then looked up at him. "This mouse…it sends…signals, to the computer?"

"That's right. It uses high-frequency radio signals, a protocol named Bluetooth. You figured that out, just by observing?"

She shook her head absently, still moving the mouse, watching the pointer. "It's like I can…hear? Feel? No, not hear _or_ feel, but…something. I _know_ the signals are there."

It was some time before he could say, dumbfounded, "You're _picking up_ the mouse signals?"

"Yes," she said, still distracted, moving the mouse around. "Or, no. It's like, there's something, doing it for me, and I'm getting a…sort of feeling. Like when I watched you and Officer Nelson from outside. I don't know how I did that, either. I just thought about it, and it happened."

"Huuhhh…" he muttered. "I wonder what else you can do…"

"I think…this." She took her hand off the mouse, pointed her finger at the screen, and moved it from right to left.

The pointer moved, too, tracking her finger precisely.


	8. What Does It Mean, To Be Human?

**What Does It Mean, To Be Human?**

Tovala waved her finger and the pointer moved up, down, diagonally, and around the screen as Daniel watched in astonishment. He knew _exactly_ how complex what she was doing had to be, to hijack the mouse's Bluetooth ID, encode the commands in the proper format, synthesize the RF signals…it would take…

…a tiny fraction of the computing power required to run some sort of Universal Translator program and learn a new language in a few hours of conversation. We made it fit into a mouse, after all. What could her people do, with technology hundreds or thousands of years more advanced?

Tovala folded her finger and rested both hands on the desk. She regarded the pointer…and it moved again. She was teaching herself to control it without using her finger as a focusing aid. Once she had mastered basic movement, she added clicking and scrolling. In less than ten minutes she had everything worked out and was using the computer at least as well as he could with the mouse.

"This computer sends signals, too," she said, still preoccupied with what she was doing. "And something over there," she pointed towards the TV, "sends signals back, and we see the information on the screen."

"You're picking up the wireless network, from that router on the shelf under the TV," he said, still with wonderment.

"Your world is full of signals. There are other routers, all around," she said, "but your computer does not use their signals."

"They belong to the neighbors," he explained, "and I don't connect to them. Most of them are locked down, anyway. You need the right password to connect to them."

"Is yours…locked down?"

"Yeah, but I know the password, because I set it up in the first place." He put his hand on her shoulder. "What, you think you can connect to a wireless network?"

"Hmmm…maybe?"

He thought about that. "I don't know why that surprises me so much. You can do all sorts of things we don't understand, but take something we _do_ understand and do it in a different way, and it's…astounding."

She didn't say anything.

"Maybe it's _because_ I understand it, and know how complex it is. Force shields and anti-gravity are just plain magic, but networking is _hard_." He squeezed her shoulder. "Why the sudden interest?"

Tovala looked up at him apologetically. "I need to learn more. You've helped me, so much, but it's slow. There are still so many things I do not know, so many words. You just told me ten words I did not know before. How many more are there, how long will it take?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "A lot, I know that. Oh!" He stood up and reached over her, moved and clicked the mouse, and typed on the keyboard, murmuring, "How…many…words…in…English?" and hit Return. A new page appeared.

"Wow. Over a hundred and seventy-one thousand. Forty-seven thousand obsolete words, and more than nine thousand derivatives, whatever that means. That's over two hundred and twenty thousand total. Of course, most of those aren't used much…Oh!" He typed again. "English…working…vocabulary."

"Okay, so most people only know about twenty thousand words. It says highly educated people know about forty thousand. Huh. I wonder who knows the other hundred and thirty thousand?" He chuckled. "Bet I know at least some of 'em."

"I think I know less than three thousand," she said in a small, discouraged voice. "If ten hundred is a thousand."

"It is," he confirmed. "See, there's another word you know!"

She gave him a _very_ patient look.

"Okay, I get it," he acknowledged with a smile. "One word at a time would take weeks."

"We think in words, too," she said in frustration, "and right now there are too many things I can't even _think_ about. I feel…I don't even have a word for what I _feel!_ "

"You're frustrated." He put his hands on her shoulders again. "I'm sorry it's taking so long."

She raised her left hand and put it over his right hand. "It's not your fault. You have done so much for me. You have done…very great. Thank you."

He squeezed her shoulders. "You're welcome. I'm doing my best."

"I don't think anyone could do better." She sighed. "But I don't think it's enough. You want me to impress people tomorrow, and I think you are right, but I am limited by how few words I know. I need to learn more than you can teach me in the time we have."

"And you think you can connect to the internet, and get them that way."

"I hope so."

"But they'd all be in text, and you've barely started learning to read…" He reached for the keyboard, typed in 'dictionary' and hit Return.

"That's Google Dictionary. You can look up any word, but you have to type it in." He chuckled, and typed again. "So, let's look up dictionary, in Dictionary." The screen changed. "The thing that will help you the most right now is, if you click on that little speaker symbol, you can hear the word."

He shifted his hand, moved the mouse, clicked, and a woman's voice issued from the computer. "Dictionary."

"If you click on any of those words printed in blue, where the pointer changes to a little pointy finger, it takes you straight to that word's definition." He pulled his hands back. "If you can pick up printed words as fast as spoken ones, you'll be reading in no time."

She was already making the pointer move. After a few seconds the computer said, "Lexicon." She put her hands on the keyboard and typed, slowly and carefully. This time he heard "Knowledge."

"Now, that's handy," he said, chuckling. "I have to take my hand off the keyboard to use the mouse."

She nodded slightly, but remained absorbed in her endeavor. Word followed word, for many minutes, in no order he could make sense of, until she looked up at him.

"I am trying connect to the router now."

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "Here, let me give you the password…I need the mouse and keyboard for a minute."

"All right, but…" she said, vague and distracted. He reached for them, but she suddenly looked up and said, "Connected."

" _What?!_ " he exclaimed. "You don't have the password. How did you—" He cut himself off and stared at her in consternation. "You mean, you _cracked_ it? Already?" He checked the shelf under the TV and sure enough, several network activity LEDs were flickering madly. "WPA2 security is supposed to be — well, nothing is uncrackable, but WPA2 is supposed to take hundreds of years with a strong password, and mine is _Superman_ strong! I generated a 24-character random string, then swapped out eight of them by hand. I used _dice!_ " He watched the LEDs for a few more seconds. "Who _are_ you?" he asked, amazed.

"I still don't know," she replied sadly.

"Sorry," he said more calmly. "I mean, how did you do that?"

"I'm not sure about that, either," she admitted. "I don't think _I'm_ really doing it. I think there's another computer, in my head, and that is what cracked your router, and moved the pointer. I think it's helping me learn, too."

"Now _that_ makes sense," he declared. "I've wondered since the beginning, if there was some sort of Artificial Intelligence helping you learn English. You think there's a computer, wired into your brain?"

"Yes?" she said, still uncertain. "But I think something is wrong with it. I've got a…a _feeling_ , that it's supposed to do a lot more."

He considered her words, and everything he knew, and some of his speculations. "Maybe you just don't remember how to use it?"

"That could be," she said thoughtfully. "In fact, it sort of… _feels_ right, somehow. I think I'm starting to remember, too. I didn't get any feelings about it until a while ago. Then, I noticed the mouse signals. I never did, before."

"Maybe…you're not remembering, but re-learning. Like everything else." He looked at the LEDs again. "What's it doing now?"

She cocked her head, as if listening for something. "I don't really know. It's just…running in the background. Not telling me anything. Or…I don't know how to ask."

He was still watching. "It had to isolate the correct UHF signals, work through all the layers of protocols, crack WPA2 security, figure out what Safari does to convert parts of the data stream to text and sound…it would take a _lot_ of computer power to work all that out from scratch. And the Universal Translator program it must have…I think we're looking at millions or billions of times more computing power than anything we've got. Maybe billions of times more than _everything_ we've got."

He hadn't asked a question, and she didn't seem to have anything to say.

"The programming would have to be even more advanced. Adaptive learning, heuristics, synthetic neural networking, maybe some sort of evolutionary self-selection. It would evolve _fast_ , too, with that kind of processing power. It might be fundamentally impossible to analyze exactly how such a computer and its programming work."

He pondered on. "You couldn't debug it. There would have to be some sort of self-correction built in, to keep it from crashing, or just doing useless random stuff. Computing concepts we haven't even started to figure out yet."

Another thought struck him. "I don't think it can actually be inside your head, either. There is a minimum energy required to change a state. If that much processing was going on inside your head, it would boil your brains like an egg. Maybe, the I/O subsystem is there, and the main processor is…somewhere else? Distributed?"

"Daniel?" she asked, confused.

He cracked a grin. "Don't mind me. I'm just making a bunch of wild-ass guesses. It's something I do, when I'm trying to understand something. Some of 'em might even be close to the truth."

"I'm afraid I don't know," she said with regret.

"Maybe you can get more answers from the computer," he said hopefully. "When you remember, or re-learn, how to use it better."

"Maybe…"

"Say!" he exclaimed. "That would make you a cyborg! Part woman, part machine. I wondered if you were a Terminator."

"Terminator?" she asked, bewildered. "That sounds…bad, somehow."

"Well, the first one was," he admitted. "But you'd be a Good Terminator. Like the ones that came to save us."

"Okay…"

"It's from some movies," he explained. "Mostly good ones, a couple of duds. We can watch them some day, if you want."

"Okaaaay…"

He belatedly noticed her vague responses. "Feeling a little lost? Sorry, sometimes I run off in all directions, make associations that are obvious to me but nobody else seems to get. It…can cause problems, when I interact with people. They think I'm just being a smart-ass."

"How can an ass be smart?" she asked dubiously.

"Now _you're_ being a smart-ass," he accused her. They both laughed.

Her laughter faded. "What if I _am_ a…a cyborg? What will you do?"

"Would I need to do something?" he asked lightly.

She seemed troubled now. "How would you…feel about me? If I wasn't…completely human?"

He tried to reassure her. "You _feel_ human, don't you?"

"How would I know?" she wondered, even more troubled. "If I'm not human — how would I even know what being human feels like?"

This was a theme familiar to Daniel Evans, and he'd thought about it quite a bit. "You're pondering the Definition Of Man — or, Woman, in your case. What makes us human? What does it take to make us not-human? That's what you're asking."

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "You understand. Again. You understand so much…"

"I try," he said, a little self-conscious at her praise. "It's a concept that's been explored, over and over, in some of the books I like to read. Nobody has found any _perfect_ answers, but there are some pretty good ones. The first one is, you can still be human even if you're not _completely_ human."

"We've been making artificial legs and arms and such for thousands of years, to replace ones people have lost in accidents, or wars. Nobody thought even for a second that losing an arm and replacing it with a hook, or a leg with a wooden one, made a man non-human. Recently we've made better limbs, and other replacement parts, for joints, heart valves and such. All the people with those artificial parts are technically cyborgs, and there's still no question that they're human."

"But, those are only…small things," she said uncertainly. "Not…important things."

"So, what things are important?" he asked. "That's the next part, how _much_ can you remove, or add, and still be human?"

"Yes…" she assented.

"We've had people whose hearts have failed, and had artificial hearts installed. We can't build very good ones, they don't work very well, and those people only live a short time, but they're still human. Some people get paralyzed, can't move their arms and legs, and we're developing machines that can move them around. They look sort of like robotic spiders, but they're human too."

"But do humans have computers in their heads?" she asked, still troubled.

"Well, nobody on this planet does," he admitted. "But then, nobody on this planet can fly, or generate a force shield, either. You must have some sort of machines that do those things, and they're almost certainly implanted in your body somewhere. I've known that ever since I first met you, and it never made me think you weren't human."

"There's a story called Ghost In The Shell, with a character, Motoko Kusanagi, who was so badly injured that her whole body had to be replaced with a machine body. The only 'original parts' left are her brain and central nervous system, and the few organs needed to support them. Most of the people in that story still consider her human, and so do most of the people who read it, and watch the anime."

"That means the brain is what's important," she said, disturbed. "But that's what we're talking about. I think there's a computer in mine."

"We both think there's a computer _connected_ to yours, anyway, but why would that make you not human?"

"I don't know, but…"

He took her hand and held it in both of his. "Does this feel good?"

She smiled, weakly. "Yes."

"You kissed me, several times. Why did you do that?" She looked up at him, surprised and dismayed, but he smiled and squeezed her hand. "It's all right, I'm just trying to make a point. Can you tell me why?"

"Because…" she faltered, then pushed on, "it, feels good. I like kissing you. It…it makes me…happy."

"Kissing you makes me happy, too."

She smiled, pleased and relieved, and squeezed his hands.

"What about you?" he asked. "Do you want _me_ to be happy? Do you like doing nice things for me?"

"Oh, yes," she said fervently. "I do."

"Well, isn't that what matters?" he asked forcefully. "Aren't all those things much more important than whether there's a computer connected to your brain, or not?"

"I guess so…"

"I think the most compelling proof that you're human is that you're worried about it. If you weren't human, you wouldn't care," he said persuasively. "Will you believe that? Believe in yourself?"

She looked at him for several seconds. "Yes."

"Good." He squeezed her hand again. "Besides, that's the wrong question. Human, or not human, is just a very limited and short-sighted view of the issue. The _right_ question is not, are you human, but, are you a _person?_ Human or not, should you be accepted into our society as an equal, with all the rights we've decided a person deserves?"

She looked uncertain.

'You've been wondering if having a few machine parts in your body makes you not-human, or even, not worthy to be a person. We've also explored that question from the other end. If we build a robot, a completely artificial thing, made in a factory, with an electronic brain and a mechanical body, it's obviously not human, and never can be."

Tovala was a little confused, but slowly nodded agreement. "That's right."

"Can that robot be a person?"

She started to say 'No'. Then she looked at him again. Looked hard. "I don't know."

Daniel smiled. "That's the right answer. It all comes down to the brain again. If that robot's electronic brain is sophisticated enough, subtle enough, to have feelings, hopes, dreams, to know the difference between right and wrong, to care about others and want to make the world a better place, how can we _not_ accept it as a person, and still call ourselves people? How could we be so be unfair, so cruel?"

She was still looking at him, and had no words.

"Being a person is not about what your parts are made out of. It's about who you are, inside. Who you choose to be." He squeezed her hand again. "I am certain that you will choose to be a good person. One of the first things you ever said was, you don't want to hurt anybody. I believed you then, and I'm sure you're still the same person now. I will do my best to get everybody to accept you."

"Daniel…" She turned, reached for him with her other hand and pushed herself out of the chair, knocking it over. They managed to not fall down as she wrapped her arms around him with a relieved sigh, and he held her.

After a minute he said, "This feels good, too."

She squeezed tighter. "Mmmm-hmmm."

"So, don't worry about it. You _are_ human, in every way that matters to me," he said emphatically.

She held tighter still, and nodded her head. They stood that way for some time.

"How could anyone say you do not understand?" she murmured in his ear. "I think your ex-girlfriends must have been idiots."

He shook his head. "No, they were right. I didn't understand them."

"How…?" She was definitely at a loss for words this time.

"I didn't say the right things, and do the right things. I wasn't who they thought I should be, and I'm too stubborn to pretend to be somebody I'm not." He shrugged. "We weren't right for each other."

"Are we right for each other?"

"I don't know. We're still finding that out. I think, we could be."

"I hope we are right for each other…"

"So do I." He chuckled. "You've turned my life upside-down and inside-out and I would _never_ want to go back to the way it was before, without you."

Tovala pulled her head back and kissed him. "Mmmmm…"

Some time later, he looked around. "Hey, it's after ten. We should check the news again."

"All right."

He righted the chair, put the computer in Sleep mode, stowed the keyboard and mouse away, and followed her to the couch.

The 10 o'clock news was mostly a repeat of the 6 o'clock news, which had been mostly a repeat of the 5 o'clock news. They sat through it quietly, arms around each other, a little numb after their crazy day. They watched a rerun of the same segment about the sinkhole/crater, too, with nothing new added.

Finally his attention focused. "Here's what I'm waiting for, the weather report. It's not always exactly right, but it's usually pretty close." They watched as a woman in a long dark-blue dress told them about temperature, high pressure, wind, waves, tides and other things.

"She's pretty," Tovala observed. "But…not like me. She's…bigger?"

"Yeah, she's built a little heavier than you are." _And, she's got huge knockers_. He dismissed _that_ thought and grinned. "You should see the weekday weather gal. She's…actually, she _does_ kind of look like you. But with brown hair."

They watched until she finished the forecast.

"Looks like it'll be warm and sunny tomorrow." He chuckled. "Hey, it's San Diego. When it's _not_ warm and sunny, _that's_ the surprise."

The picture changed to a lot of men in colorful clothes standing around on a green and brown field. "The Padres scored another victory in today's—"

The screen went dark as Dan hit the POWER button. He set the remote down, yawned, stretched, and noticed that the network LEDs were still twinkling frantically. "So, any news on what you're doing with the network connection?"

"…nnno. Nothing. It's just…running."

"Huh. Well, it's after ten-thirty. I'm going to take a shower, and go to bed. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Should I take a shower, too?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea." He chuckled. "You don't know where you've been."

"Then, I'm going to take a shower."

He stood up and gestured down the hall. "You can use the one in that bathroom."

"Will you show me how?"

"Sure." He watched her stand, followed her to the small bathroom, and switched on the lights. "You take your clothes off, stand in the bathtub, shut the shower doors, turn on the water—"

"Wait a minute!" she interrupted him. "One thing at a time. Take my clothes off?"

"That's right," he told her, embarrassed.

"All my clothes?" Dan nodded jerkily. "I see." She looked down. "How do you take these boots off?"

"Why not just make it all disappear again?" he asked cautiously. "That would be simpler."

She looked disappointed. "I'm trying to learn. Won't you help me?"

"Oh. Of course."

"The boots?" she prompted him.

"Just pull 'em off. There's no laces."

She looked a little uncertain. "Could you do it for me? Show me how?"

"Sure." He gestured to the closed toilet. "Have a seat." She did. He picked up her right foot, pulled the boot off and set it outside the door. He considered the thick black knee-high sock for a second, pulled it off too and dropped it on the boot. He set her foot aside and did the same with her left boot and sock. He tried not to dwell on how smooth and soft her skin was, the curves of her calves… "The pants, um…you already know how to do, err, undo, the pants."

"I'm not sure I remember everything. Will you help me?" Her voice was neutral, her expression perfectly innocent. Why was he so certain she was toying with him? Maybe she looked… _too_ innocent?

"You did it by yourself a few hours ago," he told her, but she didn't reply. He unfastened the belt, zipper and buttons again. "There you go."

"They're still on me." Was she smiling, just a bit?

"Hffff. Okay. Stand up." She did. That was all she did. She looked at him, expectantly. He shook his head slightly, went to one knee, pulled her pants down and prompted her to step out of them. He stood up again and laid them beside the sink. She had the same shorts on underneath, or a pair that looked just like them. Also the same gorgeous legs… "I know you can pull those down. You did it before."

"Only half-way, and I'm not sure if I did it right." She was definitely smirking.

"There isn't really any way to do it _wrong_ ," he grumbled. She regarded him patiently. "Oh, fine then." He helped her out of the shorts, too, and set them on top of her pants. The blouse was just long enough to cover her. He couldn't help noticing a couple of things; whether she was feeling… _stimulated_ , or just reacting to the cool night air, the little bumps were quite unmistakable through the light material.

She picked at the third button, where it strained to hold her blouse together. "I'm not sure about these, either. How do you open them?"

Dan groaned a little, under his breath, and fumbled with her buttons, his fingers uncommonly clumsy at the simple task. She did nothing to assist him, or do it herself, though he was certain she could have. He couldn't help touching her in…compromising ways. She made sensuous little sounds, every time he did, then remained motionless after he finished the last button, still favoring him with that sneaky little smile. He hesitated, then slipped the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms, and laid it on the pants.

If she'd ever had any inhibitions, they had gone the way of her lost memories. She stood boldly, eyeing him, making no move to cover herself, or turn away. She fairly glowed with health and vitality. He took in her long legs, shapely hips, trim waist…his eyes locked on her breasts. D's at least, he was sure, probably more, splendidly proportioned, full and rounded… He recalled how they'd felt under his hands, how they tasted, Tovala's eager response… He blinked, forcing himself to focus on her face, and the smile that had grown wider.

"You like looking at me." She giggled, low and provocative. "I can tell."

"Uhhh, ahh, yeah, um, you're, uh…" He gulped nervously. "I've…never…seen, a more beautiful woman." He couldn't honestly call her 'the most beautiful woman' he'd ever beheld — there'd been a few, over the years, in addition to the endless bombardment by images of actresses, models, centerfolds… Still, he had told her the truth; some of them had rivaled her, but none could _surpass_ her, at least in his eyes.

"Thank you, Daniel." Her voice had turned positively sultry; where had she learned _that?_ "What do you want me to do now?"

 _Talk about a loaded question_ … He had a sudden vision of her lying on his bed, gazing up at him with a _much_ bigger smile… He'd been wondering; now he was certain that her antics were a playful payback for their _gropus interruptus_ earlier in the day. He also felt a growing conviction that sex with Tovala would be literally out of this world. Dare he hope that it might be _soon?_ Was he still being selfish? He gritted his teeth, and managed a fairly normal, "Stand in the bathtub."

She stepped into the tub, with a graceful sway of her hips and a few other distracting motions.

Dan knelt beside the tub and turned the left-hand knob. "Hot water," he told her as it poured out of the faucet. "It'll take a minute to get here; the pipes are full of cold water." He tapped the other knob. "Cold water. You'll want to mix some in with the hot water to get the right temperature."

"Show me how?"

"Of course, Tovala," he said, resigned. If she wanted to play this game, he would indulge her. It wasn't like she was doing anything _unpleasant_ to him, after all! And…the fact that she felt relaxed enough to fool around like this, _trusted_ him enough to tease and tempt…was actually a weird sort of compliment, and it felt good…in a weird sort of way. He stuck his finger in the running water, waited, then adjusted the faucets for moderately hot and pulled up the diverter button. "Water is going to spray all over you. Get ready."

The little hose shook, the shower head hissed and sputtered, and she made a startled squeaky noise despite the warning.

Water splattered out, and he shut the shower door. He pulled a half-full bottle of 'girly shampoo' and one of conditioner from the bottom shelf of the vanity, left behind by his last girlfriend a year, no, over a year ago. The stuff wouldn't have gone bad, would it? He closed the cabinet door and shook the shampoo bottle vigorously. "First, you wash your hair."

"How?"

He half-opened the other shower door, at the opposite end of the tub. "Get your hair completely wet, then step back so your head's out of the water."

She did. He upended the bottle, squeezed a generous amount on top of her head, set it aside, and started working the stuff in with his fingers, thankful that he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. It would probably get a little wet anyway, though. The shampoo smelled and felt normal, so it must be okay.

"Hmmmm, that feels good," she murmured after a minute. He kept on, getting the shampoo completely through her hair while she made more little sounds of pleasure. She had a lot of that purple hair, more than waist-length, and it took a while.

He finished, rinsed his hands off in the water spray, and pointed to a green lump on a small shelf in front of her. "That's the soap. Pick it up and start, um, rubbing it all over you. It'll make bubbles and foam, it's supposed to do that."

"Show me how?" she asked. He could hear the devilish grin in her voice.

"I'll wash your back," he offered. "Hand me the soap?"

She did, and then made more little sounds as he pushed her hair out of the way and ran the bar of soap and both hands over her back. He was careful not to stray too low, or reach too far, despite the temptations. He finished in a minute or so, and held the soap out.

"Here. Just do the same, um, everywhere else."

"Thank you, Daniel," she cooed, squeezing his hand while taking the soap. "You've been _very_ helpful."

"Uh, yeah, you're, ah, welcome."

Tovala washed her hands and arms with ease, leading him to doubt, again, that she needed _quite_ so much help as she had requested. She started on her stomach, and the soap popped out of her hands. "Oh…hell!"

He smiled. "Happens all the time. Just pick it up and keep going." He fixed his gaze on the shower head; watching this _would_ be an invasion of her privacy, whether she realized that yet or not. By the sounds, it was taking her a few tries to grab the elusive bar. When she had it, and stood back up, he assured her, "You're doing fine."

She moved the soap up to her breasts, then inhaled sharply. "Ohhh…that feels _good_ …" She resumed washing. "You touch me, here. Why did it feel so much better when _you_ touch me? And…you kissed me here, too. That felt…so very, _very_ good. Will you do that again?"

His chest felt tight, but he answered steadily, "When you know more. If you still want me to."

"I _will_ want you to!"

"Oh, I hope so." He shook his head slightly to clear it. "I think it's time for the conditioner. Put the soap back, stick your head under the water and rinse all the shampoo out of your hair. Oh! Close your eyes. Soap and shampoo burn a little if they get in 'em."

She followed his directions, using her hands as he had when applying the shampoo. He shook the conditioner bottle. Soon the water ran clear.

"Okay, step back again." She did, and he squirted hair conditioner on her head. "Rub that in, get it through all your hair, just like I did with the shampoo."

She did that, too. He decided it was time to shut the shower door and leave. "Can you manage the rest? Finish washing, rinse all the soap off, and the conditioner out of your hair, then turn off both faucets. You can take the shower head down, and hold it wherever you want to spray water. There's a towel hanging on the door, right here; you use that to dry the water off. I'll put a bathrobe on top of your clothes, for you to wear when you're done."

"Yes. Thank you." He slid the door shut and started to turn away. "Daniel?"

He stopped. "What is it?"

"I didn't need that much help, to take a shower," she said reluctantly. "I was being…hard to deal with. I not should have made you do all those things. I was still…pissed, a little. A tiny bit mad at you. I wanted to…I don't know a word for it."

"You were teasing me."

"I think that is the word, yes. I'm sorry."

He chuckled. "That's okay. Men and women tease each other all the time. It's not a problem, as long as you don't do it to be mean. I forgive you."

She giggled. "Kiss and make up?"

He laughed. " _After_ you get out of the shower!" She laughed, too. He got a bathrobe from a cabinet and set it out, stepped into the hall and closed the bathroom door. He shook his head, frustrated but amused. _Like no woman I **ever** met before!_ Some of them would have teased him like that, but none of them would _ever_ have admitted they might have done something wrong.

His own shower in the other bathroom was short, uneventful and **not** taken with cold water. The term 'cold shower' was in fact a euphemism for something quite different, an expedient he wasn't about to employ. In truth, soaking or showering in _hot_ water could be moderately effective at…reducing a certain condition. He'd first read that in a science fiction novel about a time traveler, of all things. You really did run across the most remarkable gems of information in the damnedest places.

Dan stepped out of the shower and looked into the mirror. _That's what she sees, when she looks at me_. A man just on the young side of middle age, a little short of average height, not skinny, not fat, not ugly, not exceptionally handsome, medium brown hair graying but still mostly there, cut fairly short. He'd gone through the long hair and beard phase, many years ago, and was emphatically _over_ both of them. A thoroughly ordinary-looking guy, in other words.

 _He_ knew there was more to him than the obvious, but most people didn't take the time to find that out. As he had griped to Officer Nelson, they dismissed him at a glance, especially women. Well, the joke was on them now, because this ordinary guy had met the most extraordinary of women under circumstances that allowed him to exercise his strengths — knowledge, reasoning, honesty, patience, curiosity, and problem solving. He would do his best for Tovala, and he _would not_ disappoint her.

He finished toweling off, combed his hair, put on a clean pair of shorts, slippers, and his only other bathrobe, a slightly ratty green one he dug out from the back of a cabinet. He didn't use bathrobes all that much. Tovala had wandered into the living room by the time he finished. She'd figured out a way to tie her belt, and she gave the pale blue bathrobe a _most_ interesting shape. She smiled. "Kiss and make up. You promised."

He returned it. "You're right, I did." They met beside the couch and he kissed her, carefully but thoroughly. Her hair was damp but not overly so; she smelled of soap, hair conditioner, and something fresh and subtle that had to be just _her_.

Dan pulled a comb out of his bathrobe pocket. "Let me comb your hair out, so it won't dry out tangled." He chuckled. "I've got a brush, but it's Jake's. I don't think either one of you would be happy with me using it on you. I'll get one for you tomorrow."

"What should I do?"

"Just stand still." He combed, starting near the ends and working his way up. He found a few tangles, and they combed out easily. Soon he reached her head, and she sighed.

"That feels good."

"I'm glad you like it." He finished, and returned the comb to the bathroom, turning off lights on his way back. Only the bathroom light she'd used was still on. He faced her in the dimness, a little uncomfortable.

"It's bedtime, but I've only got the one bed." He sighed fatalistically. "It's okay, I can sleep on the couch."

"Why?" she asked, mystified. "Is something wrong with the bed?"

"No, you can sleep in the bed."

She was still mystified. "Then, why can't you?"

That stumped him for a good bit. "It's…nnnnot a good idea," he said finally.

"Why not? Would something bad happen if we both sleep in your bed?"

"No…" he said, stumbling through the words, "…but, when two people sleep together, um…"

"It's about sex, isn't it?"

"Uh, yes," he said, relieved to have the elephant in the parlor named at last. Why _had_ he been dancing around the issue, at that? He kept running into reminders that she wasn't like 'normal' women, and then forgetting until he ran into another one. "It's still too soon for that, so—"

"Do we have to do sex if we sleep together?" She was starting to get a little…short.

"Well, no…" he admitted uncomfortably.

"Then why don't you want to sleep with me?"

"It's not that I don't _want_ to sleep with you, I _do_ , but it's not—"

"Oh, this is all so much trouble!" she snapped, frustrated. "Why don't we just do sex?"

He couldn't help it; he started laughing. "That is just about…the least romantic…proposition, I ever heard of," he choked out while Tovala watched him, still frustrated. Soon he managed a more controlled, "Sorry, I'm not laughing at _you_ , it's just… You'll get the joke too, when you know more about us."

" _Everything_ is 'when I know more'," she grumped. " _When_ will I know more?"

"Soon," he said, trying to soothe her. "I know I keep saying that, but I mean it. Think how much you've learned today. You'll learn twice as much tomorrow, at least. Try not to be so impatient, okay? I promise, it'll be soon."

"It doesn't seem like soon to _me_ ," she complained.

"I und—" He stopped abruptly as the realization hit him. " **D'oh!** No! I _don't_ understand! There's no _way_ I could have a clue. The way you must see things…" He looked at her with a completely new awareness. "For you, today is all the time there has ever been. It's your whole life. To me a day is, what, one ten-thousandth of my life? Or less. I _can't_ see things the way you do. _I'm_ the one being impatient, with you. I'm sorry, Tovala, I'm not being fair to you."

She thought for a time before asking, "That is what you meant by 'perspective', isn't it?"

"Yes," he affirmed. "Our perspectives are different, because in a way, you're only a day old."

"And that's because of all the things you know, and I don't."

"Partly," he acknowledged. "But another part comes from living through forty-one years, one day at a time. That's something nobody else can explain to you. You can only understand by living through it yourself."

"But I don't **WANT** to wait forty-one years!" she wailed. "I **WON'T!** "

"Ahgk! That's not what I meant!" he said frantically. "Only a few days! Maybe only one or two."

She studied him, slowly calmed down and finally said, "That still seems like a really long time, to me."

He nodded reluctantly. "It must literally seem like forever to you. It won't always be that way, I promise."

There was another delay before she said, "That doesn't help very much, right now."

"It _will_ get better," he tried to reassure her. "Actually, I think you'll see everything a little differently tomorrow morning. When today is in the past, and you've got some distance from it. You'll see."

"There's nothing else I can do, is there?" she said with resignation. "And you want to…wait."

"Tovala, we might be together for the rest of our lives, _if_ I don't screw this up now," he said persuasively. "I think that's worth waiting a day or two. Can you be patient with me for that long? See if I'm right?"

She sighed heavily. "Yes. You probably are." She looked at the couch, and down the hall at the dark bedroom, and shook her head slowly. "But, I don't want to be alone all night. I don't know why, but I just… _don't_."

"You _are_ still growing up, aren't you?" he said gently. "Growing up fast, but you're not there yet."

She didn't have an answer for that.

He smiled at her. "You're right. If sleeping together would make you feel better, we should. I guess I was just being…an old fuddy-duddy."

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Sure. Let's go to bed." He led the way, stopping as he reached in to turn off the bathroom lights.

"Do you need to, uh, go…?"

"Go…? Oh. I did."

"Did you flush?"

"Flush?"

Dan stepped in and pushed the flush handle. The commode whooshed and gurgled. "Flushing every time is a waste of water, but we should always flush at the end of the day."

He switched off the lights and navigated by memory as she followed close behind. Oddly, she seemed unhindered by the unfamiliar dark bedroom. He turned on a light above the bed's headboard.

"How do we go to bed?" she wondered.

He turned, looked at her and chuckled. "I don't know about wherever you came from, but in my world, we don't wear bathrobes to bed. We should find you something else."

"Oh." She fumbled with the belt for a few seconds, then looked up. "I think I need help. It's…tangled."

"Okay." He took the twisted lump of fabric in both hands and examined it. "How did you tie this thing?"

"I'm not really sure. I just kind of, did things with it, until it stayed together."

"Huh. I think you invented a brand-new kind of knot." He selected an end, followed it in, and started picking at the mystery knot here and there, gradually unraveling it. "Almost there…got it!" Both ends of the belt came free.

Without an instant's hesitation Tovala took off the bathrobe.

Daniel goggled anew, and desire hit him with an almost physical force, accompanied by nearly unbearable temptation.

She _'s blazing hot — and she's **standing right here in front of me**. I can touch her anywhere I want, in any **way** I want. She won't stop me. Hell, she'll cooperate gladly! She'll respond to me, and make those excited sounds, like she did this afternoon. She'll let me do whatever I want. **She'll** do whatever I want_.

He could have this enchanting woman, right now, right here. She'd enjoy it, too; he'd learned a thing or two over the years. He could satisfy himself, and make her blissfully happy tonight. It was like a dream come true.

But every dream must end. There would be tomorrow, and all the days after that. And she would remember.

In a short time she would _know_ , and understand, how he took advantage of her naive trusting innocence, and she would never be able to respect him again. He would not _deserve_ her respect, or her trust. Any chance that their emergency matrimony could be made into a real, lasting marriage would go— well, certainly _not up in smoke_ , but…

 _Dammit, at my age I shouldn't still be thinking with the wrong head! I want her **now** , but I want more. I want her forever! I want us to at least have a chance at that_.

"Daniel?" she said uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"

Her voice brought him back to reality, and made him aware that he'd been gawking at her like a perv for an uncomfortably long time. He blinked, and dragged his eyes to her face. "Uh, no, uh, nothing, um, wrong, just, uh, you…" He cut off the babble and focused on the one critical item… "You need a, a nightgown. I, uh, don't have one. Or, anything, really, that would be…suitable."

He'd outgrown pajamas in high school, and had none in the house. She was looking at him strangely again, and he wondered what was _wrong_ with the girl, why did she still not understand—

 _There is **nothing** wrong with Tovala! Something is wrong with **us**. Any society that would say there's anything wrong with such a sweet, innocent woman is sick. I was so sure I was better than the Mrs. Grundys, but I guess I'm not as free of that old prudery as I thought. We proclaim our enlightenment, and tolerance, but secretly we still treat sex as something ugly and shameful. Look at all the idiotic laws we have! A person without covering on specific parts of their body is considered 'indecent', and they can be arrested, and you can be arrested for looking. It can even be 'indecent' if those parts **are** covered in the 'wrong' way! We've all got those 'naughty bits' so how can they be 'indecent' or offensive? 'Obscenity', 'depravity', 'lechery', 'ribaldry', 'lewdness'… I'll bet we have five times as many derogatory terms for sex as 'proper' ones. She doesn't need to **learn** our sordid attitudes; she needs to be protected from them!_

He put on a crooked smile and said, "It would be a little easier for _me_ if you wore a nightgown."

"Because we're going to sleep together and not do sex?"

"Uhhhmm… Close enough."

"All right," she said, not really convinced it was necessary but…humoring him. "I saw nightgowns on your computer…"

A quick purple glow left her wearing…

"Ack! That's _not_ what I meant!"

She looked down at the lacy, low-cut, nearly transparent negligee, then back at him, and asked, "What's wrong with it?" in complete innocence. "I got it right. It looks just like the picture."

"It—" _Give me strength_ … "That's…the…kind of a nightgown you wear, when you _want_ to have sex."

"i see." Tovala looked over her naughty nightie again and gave him a demure smile. "That's good to know."

"Uhhh…ohh…kay," he said noncommittally. "For tonight, though, you need something, um, longer, and, higher, and, that doesn't, uh, show…so much."

"Oh." She glowed again, and this time she wore a tasteful sleeveless knee-length night-dress made of some dense pale purple silky material. It was so perfect, he was certain her first 'mistake' had been nothing of the sort.

 _One day. She's been learning for **one day** , and already she's this, this… In a week she'll surpass us all. In a month she'll take over the world without even using her weapons_.

Aloud he said, "That's great. That's just right." He pulled the sheet and blanket aside. "Climb in, and figure out which side you want to sleep on."

She got in and slid over to make room for him, pushing her hair aside with an apparently automatic motion. He laid his bathrobe on the dresser, crawled in, found a comfortable position beside her, pulled up the sheet and blanket, reached up and turned off the light. "Good night."

"Good night," she echoed.

A minute later she said, "It feels like we're missing something."

"Maybe…a good-night kiss?" he suggested cautiously.

"Oh, yes!" She rolled half-way over and found his lips unerringly. "Mmmmm…"

He curled his arm around her shoulders, but nothing more. When the kiss ended, the clock-radio's red glow showed her looking down at him for a few seconds before settling back onto her pillow.

"Good night, Tovala."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Oh, Daniel. I feel, good. I feel…very, really happy. Good night, Daniel."

He felt her wriggle slightly, then lie still, breathing steadily.

"Tovala?" he whispered. No response. "Huh."

 _Wow. She must have been totally wiped out_. He closed his eyes and did his best to join her.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

And so their first day comes to a close, after eight chapters and over 60,000 words. Some people might say very little has happened — actually, a few _have_ said that — but look how much Tovala has learned, and how much we have learned about her.

I have been keeping track of everything she heard since the beginning, so I know what words she can use when she talks. I was surprised to find that she's heard about 25,000 words today, and accumulated a vocabulary of more than 2,800 words. Of course, that includes both singular and plural versions of some words, and variations like believe, believes and believed. Still, Daniel has done an impressive amount of jabbering.


	9. We're Off To See The Mayor!

**We're Off To See The Mayor!  
**

Dan woke up in his familiar bed, but this morning was different. He felt something soft and warm on his left side, and opened his eyes. Tovala had moved during the night. Now she lay snuggled up to him, with one arm around him and a leg thrown across both of his, as if to prevent him from slipping away from her. His left arm was trapped between their bodies, providing him with some very… _interesting_ sensations.

He also had a raging case of Morning Wood.

 _Down, dammit!_ he growled inwardly, _You're not getting any, so just give it up. She's not ready, and won't be for a while. When she **is** ready, she'll let me know_.

It paid no attention, of course.

When he tried to move, her arm tightened around him and she made a small sound in her sleep. Clearly, he wasn't going anywhere without waking her up. He twisted around, carefully, and the clock-radio behind his head showed 6:17. _What the hell. Five more minutes won't hurt anything…_

He closed his eyes again and relaxed. Tovala lay beside him, breathing softly. After a while his bladder's complaints, initially mild, became more and more insistent. It was definitely time to get up. He started to unwind her arm and said, "Tovala?"

"Uhfff?" Her eyes opened and she looked around, confused, then saw him and broke into a relieved smile. "Oh, Daniel. It's you." She seemed to have awakened instantly, and completely. "I…I didn't know where I was at first. Not until I saw you. I felt…" She seemed to lose track, and started over. "Last time I woke up, I was standing in a crater, with nothing in sight but desolation. This is much better." Her smile got bigger. "And so is this." She moved over far enough to kiss him. "Mmmm…"

This felt like her best kiss yet. Her mouth tasted fresh, almost sweet. He returned her smile when it ended. "Wow. Good morning."

"Good morning." She twisted and stretched, oblivious to the effects of her body pressing against him. "Aaahhh. I feel great. I think I needed a good night's sleep."

He did his best to remain casual. "I guess so. You just sort of switched off, last night. One second you were awake, and the next…not."

She propped her head up on one hand. "Is that unusual?" Her hair was shining, her eyes bright, her face as beautiful as ever. No 'bed head' for this lady! The sheet slipped down, and gravity did fascinating things under her night-dress.

"Well, yeah," he said in an it's-so-obvious but distracted tone. "It always takes a few minutes, at least. Some people lie awake for hours. Some take pills."

"Hmm. That doesn't seem right."

"You must have been really tired. You _did_ go through a lot yesterday." His bladder delivered an ultimatum. "I gotta go take care of something. Be right back." He poked his feet out, swung them over the side and jammed them into slippers. He ducked into the bathroom, shut the door, flipped the seat up, let go, and groaned with relief.

He returned at a much more leisurely pace and opened the sock drawer in the dresser.

Tovala still lay in bed, her head on the pillow again, watching him with a smile. "Why didn't you just say you had to piss?" She sounded amused.

He shut the drawer and turned around, holding two long black socks. "It's considered…not polite."

"By who?" She was still amused. "Not you, I think."

"Most people. Polite society, as they call it. There are a whole lot of things you're not supposed to do, or say." He pulled the socks on as he talked.

"Like, 'I need to piss'."

"That's right. You're supposed to use different words."

"Different words that _mean_ the same thing. How can some be better than others?"

He thought about that. "They don't mean quite the same thing."

"According to that polite society. I don't think you completely agree with them."

"Not about some things, anyway. But, using crude language all the time gets tiresome for everybody. It's better to only use it once in a while, when you're feeling crude."

"That's another thing. _Why_ do you have so many different words for urination? Is it that important to you?"

Dan broke down, laughing helplessly. "I guess it depends on how bad you gotta go," he managed after a short time, and she laughed too.

"There are so many different words for _everything_ ," she commented after another minute. "How do you know which ones to use? I thought I only needed more words, to understand your world, but more words lead to more words, and more, and more, and it never seems to reach an _end_."

"Sounds like you had a busy night," he observed, opening the closet.

" _I_ was asleep. The computer in my head was working all night, assimilating data through the wireless routers. It has downloaded and cross-referenced almost a hundred thousand words and variations. And rules, dozens of grammatical rules. I know a lot more about the words you taught me, too. There is still a long ways to go, but I can really _talk_ to you now. I can _think_ without running into those horrid gaps where I _knew_ there should be something, some meaning, but it was just _empty!_ "

"You do sound a lot more articulate this morning." He pulled out something on a hanger, with a plastic bag over it.

She smiled sunnily. "Thank you." Her smile faded. "But, I think I've got even more questions than I did yesterday."

"I'd be worried if you didn't. It would mean you've stopped learning." His face grew more serious. "But the questions will be tougher. You've got most of the easy answers now."

"I'm beginning to understand that." She watched him pull the plastic bag off and hook the hanger over the door. "Is that a suit?"

"That's right. It's the best one I've got for a wedding." The pants and conservative coat were dark blue, with plain buttons.

She examined the suit carefully. "I'll have to take your word for it. I know what a suit is, but I've never seen one before." She sighed. "I know many words now, and their definitions, but I'm finding that definition is not always the same as meaning."

"Hmmm?" He was picking through the closet again, not completely paying attention.

She chuckled wickedly. "I know the _definition_ of sex. I know several definitions. Would you say that I know the _meaning_ of sex?"

That got his full attention. "Oh! Uh, yeah, I get it, you're right." He pulled out a purple shirt. "What do you think?"

"I like the color," she said noncommittally.

Dan held it up in front of the hanger. "Does it look good with this suit?"

"Hmmmm…" She regarded the two items uncertainly. "I guess so. I think…I like it."

"I think it'll look good," he said hopefully. "And, it's almost the color of your eyes. I think that will be nice."

"Oh, I see." She smiled up at him. "That's sweet. I think you're right." She watched him put the shirt on and button it, then the suit pants. "You look…dashing?"

"Uh, thanks…"

"I'm trying out some of these new words. You'll tell me if I use them inappropriately, won't you?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed. "But, if I do, it doesn't mean I'm saying you're stupid, just that you've made a mistake."

"Of course. Why would I think that?"

"Most people would feel insulted if I corrected them. They'd get pissed off at me."

"How am I to learn, if no one tells me when I'm wrong?" she asked, puzzled. "And why would people get pissed off at you for their own errors?"

"I guess it's just human nature," he speculated. "Nobody likes to be wrong."

"It's not _my_ nature," she stated. "If I am human, as you say, then perhaps it is a behavior I have forgotten — or never learned." She eyed him critically. "I don't think you learned it, either. You're not afraid to admit that you can be wrong."

"Only to you. Only because I…I don't want to mislead you, in any way. What if I was wrong about something, and you believed me without question? We'd both be wrong, and neither of us would know, or even suspect it. I think you deserve better than that."

"Then why is it so bad to be told when you're wrong?"

"Ummmm…" He didn't get any further for a while. Finally he said, "Maybe it goes back to childhood. I remember, when I was a little kid, everybody in the class would laugh at you if you got a wrong answer. Children can be mean, self-centered little bastards, and some of the teachers encouraged them. Maybe, people still associate those experiences with being told they're wrong."

"So, I shouldn't tell people when they're wrong?" she asked . "Because it would piss them off, and we need them to like me?"

"For now, I think that might be best." He opened a drawer in the night-stand and took out the watch he'd worn the day before.

"All right." She gave him a shrewd look. "You tell people when they're wrong, don't you?"

He chuckled. "Sometimes. It's kind of hard not to, when some of them say such incredibly stupid things." He looked at his watch, the clock radio, and the watch again. "Hey, my watch is slow. What the— Oh. Of course." He gave her an accusing but amused look. "You stopped my watch."

"I did?"

"Yesterday, when you stopped everything else. This is an electronic watch." He pulled the stem and started setting it.

She looked guilty. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Oh, it's perfectly all right," he assured her as he finished setting the time. "You didn't even know you were doing it." He chuckled and shook his head. "It's hard to believe everything could change so much in less than ten minutes."

Tovala gazed up at him curiously. As if she had questions, but couldn't yet fit them into words, despite having so many available to her.

He slid the watch over his left hand while answering the questions she wasn't asking. "Before I met you, I didn't _know_ there was life anywhere except on this planet. I always _thought_ there had to be life out there somewhere, but you gave me proof. I didn't know force shields and energy swords were possible, or that things could just blink out of existence, and come back. You changed my whole view of the universe, and then you flew away."

A question suddenly occurred to him. " _Have_ you remembered anything? From…before, I mean?"

Her expression became mildly troubled, and she shook her head. "No, nothing."

He got another one. "Has anybody come looking for you? You must have some sort of communicator, that they'd use to contact you. Anything like that?"

"No." She nibbled her lip thoughtfully. "If there is one, it's not picking up anything."

"Hm." He pondered things for a moment. "You've probably got a lot of other, um… _features_ , you don't remember."

"I suspect there are," she agreed. "But I don't know about them." She gave him an accusing look. "Now you've given me even more questions."

Dan put his slippers back on, then grinned. "Right now, there's only one question that matters: Are you going to drag your lazy ass out of bed, or not?" He flipped the sheet and blanket up and grabbed her foot playfully.

Tovala made a startled noise, something between a shriek and a squeak, and started laughing. "Okay, okay, I'll get up! It just feels so good to lie here like this."

He laughed with her. "Yeah, I've always wondered why lying in bed for ten minutes in the morning feels so much better than lying there for ten minutes at night. If you figure it out, let me know."

She stretched again, arresting his attention, then reached out. He took her hand, she pulled herself up and him down for another kiss. He smiled when she let him up. "I need to go start breakfast now. Should be ready in about half an hour."

"Oh, breakfast…yes, of course." She returned his smile. "I am hungry again. Do you need any help?"

"Nope, I've got it."

"All right, then." She pulled the sheet and blanket over herself. "I just want to stay here for a few more minutes. It does feel good."

Twenty minutes later Tovala strolled down the hall, still wearing her night-dress, and a pair of matching slippers she'd conjured up. She glanced around, saw Dan sitting at the computer and stepped up behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. "What'cha doing?"

"Checking out a few more things." He looked up and smiled. "And, looking for any mention of you. So far, there's nothing. We've still got the element of surprise."

"That's good, right?"

"I think so."

She turned her head towards the kitchen. "What's that wonderful smell?"

"Breakfast."

"Okay, but what _is_ it?"

"A surprise. Wait and see."

She pinched his shoulders lightly and grumbled, "You're mean."

"Hey, surprises can be fun. Give it a chance."

She made another wordless grumble, then asked, "Did you find out anything else?"

He nodded. "Something I just remembered this morning. Our Mayor's a lame duck."

Tovala was unable to come up with any response beyond, "Huuuh?" and her you're-not-making-sense face.

Dan chuckled. "It's more slang. I misused it, actually, but I meant he can't run in the next election, because of term limits. That makes things just a bit different. He'll be less concerned with what the voters think of him, and more concerned with what history will think of him. What sort of legacy he can create. We have to convince him that marrying us is the best thing to do, for the city, the nation, and the whole world."

"Will that make it harder?"

"I don't know. We'll just have to see."

There was a picture on the computer screen, a man with receding sandy-brown hair and a pleasant-looking, vaguely rectangular face. "Is that him?" she asked.

"That's right. That's the Mayor of San Diego, the guy we have to convince to marry us. I sure hope we can do it." His expression turned to one of wry amusement. "He may look like a Good Ol' Boy, but he's still a politician, and he won two tough elections. Most folks think he's doing a good job, and he seems fairly honest — for a politician."

Dan frowned. "At least we don't have to deal with the last asshole. Our previous Mayor was a weasel. Looked like one, too. Got sacked for scandal, corruption and malfeasance in office, and sentenced to a couple years of probation."

His frown turned darker and he growled, "It should have been at least ten years in prison, but big shots like that hardly ever get what they deserve."

"Oh." she said uncertainly.

He looked up at her, dismissed his aggravation and smiled. "Sorry. None of that means anything to you. Or to us, really. We've got a pretty decent Mayor now, and I'm hoping he'll help us." He pushed the chair back. "For now, I need to check on our breakfast."

She followed him to the kitchen. He peeked into the oven and announced, "It's ready." He got a pot-holder, opened the oven and removed a small round pan filled with toasty-brown lumps. A wave of delectable scent poured out and spread through the kitchen. He shut the oven, took two steps and set the pan on a wire grid he'd placed on the table, between two small plates. Two glasses of orange juice stood over them. Tovala took a seat and reached for the pan.

"No! They're too hot to eat!" he said hurriedly. "We have to wait a few minutes."

She checked her motion and continued looking curiously at the pan as he put the pot-holder away, turned off the oven and sat down, holding a pair of scissors. She looked at him. "So, what are they?"

He grinned. "Cinnamon rolls. And they taste as good as they smell." He held a hand over the pan. "Still too hot, though." He picked up a small, thick plastic bag filled with white stuff and carefully snipped off a corner.

She watched impatiently as he got up again, put the scissors in a drawer, returned to his chair, waited, touched the pan gingerly, and held a hand over it again. "Okay, I think it's cool enough now." He cautiously pulled out two steaming rolls and set one on each plate, then squeezed the plastic bag over each of them, depositing a long white spiral. She imitated his next move, picking her roll up and taking a bite.

"Mmmmmm!" Her eyes half-closed as her face melted into an expression of pure bliss. Before she realized it, her first cinnamon roll was gone. She became aware of the outside world again and saw him grinning at her.

"I guess you like cinnamon rolls."

"Oh, yes! They're…" she picked through her newly expanded vocabulary and settled on a word, "…sublime."

"I'm glad you're happy," He watched her dig another roll out of the pan. As usual, she had picked up the action after seeing him do it once. He held out the bag.

She took it and decorated her second roll with a spiral, as he'd done. "This is called frosting, right?"

"Yup. There are eight rolls, so we try to use about an eighth of it on each one." He pulled out another roll, and she handed the frosting bag back before losing herself in her second cinnamon roll. Her innocent joy reminded him of a child encountering chocolate for the first time, or ice cream. His own rolls seemed to taste better than usual this morning.

Eating two cinnamon rolls in a row was a dry business. He took a big drink of orange juice, and she followed suit. "This is orange juice?"

"It is."

"It's good. You give me so many good things." She took another roll and smiled. "Do you have cinnamon rolls for breakfast every day?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, eight rolls is way too much for one person. I usually have other things."

"Like what?"

"Cereal, pancakes, waffles, French toast, eggs and toast…sometimes just toast, if I get lazy. It depends on what I feel like making."

She finished moaning with pleasure over her third roll, then asked, "Are those things as good as cinnamon rolls?"

"Some of 'em come close. Actually, you might find something you like better than cinnamon rolls. Food is mostly a matter of individual taste. You might like things I can't stand, and vice versa. We'll just have to see."

"I like everything you've given me so far." She polished off another roll by way of confirmation.

They both reached for the last roll. Dan pulled his hand back. "Go for it. Three's enough for me."

"Are you sure?" she asked, longing for one more delectable morsel, but wanting to be fair.

"I'm sure. It's all yours."

She gifted him with a lovely smile. "Thank you." She squeezed out the rest of the frosting, savored the last cinnamon roll, sipped orange juice, and smiled again. "Thank you for everything. All you've done for me. I don't know what would have happened to me, without you."

He considered the matter for a short time, then offered, "You probably would have picked up on our computer signals by now, and be able to use the internet."

"Maybe," she said doubtfully. "I might have access to the data, but how much of it would I understand? Would I have known how to get food, or even that I need to eat?" She grimaced. "I could still be standing in that crater, surrounded by a mob of police, or soldiers, shooting at me."

Dan shook his head to dispel the vision she brought up. "Well, it didn't happen. You're here, and we're going to try to make sure it never will."

"By getting married."

"I hope so."

"Me, too. I feel…" she gave him an intense look. "…I feel, very close to you. I want to stay with you, and never have to leave."

He felt a great surge of emotion, and a tightness in his chest. "That's what I want, too." He leaned toward her and she met him for a kiss, flavored with orange and cinnamon.

When the kiss ended she reached out and ran her hand across his face, feeling the roughness. "That's a beard, isn't it?"

"It would be, if I let it grow. Right now it's just scratchy stubble." He chuckled sheepishly. "I need to shave."

"Shave…" She thought for a few seconds. "I see."

They finished their orange juice. He washed the dishes as she looked on, curious. When he finished the dishes she followed him to the bathroom and watched, fascinated, as he ran an electric shaver over the day-old bristles. He put it away, saying, "There. That's better."

She felt his face with both hands, then kissed him again and grinned. "You're right. This is nicer."

He opened a drawer in the vanity and dug a few things out. "I've got something else to take care of." He answered her curious look with, "I'm getting married soon. Well, I hope so. I'm going to be on TV, anyway. I want to look my best, so I should polish my boots."

"Oh."

"It'll only take a few minutes."

"All right." She looked towards the living room. "Can I use your computer?"

"Of course."

By the time he returned with his boots, Tovala had iTunes playing:

Now he walks in shadows  
He's tryin' to pretend she never walked away, no  
But he's not deceivin'  
He's closer to an end he never could foresee  
Where love goes when love dies, heaven knows

But it's more than meets the eye  
So much more than just a last goodbye  
It's a cold and lonely heart  
So sad and torn apart  
Yes it's more than meets the eye…

When the song ended she asked, "Isn't Europe a group of countries on the eastern side of the Atlantic Ocean?"

"It's also the name of a rock band _from_ one of those countries," he told her. "That's one of their hit songs from back in the Eighties."

"Oh." The display scrolled and stopped. "I thought Alice was a girl's name. This doesn't look like a woman."

"You mean Alice Cooper?" He chuckled. "That's a stage name. His real name is Vincent Furnier. He used the Alice Cooper name to shock people."

She tried to make sense of that, and gave up. "Why?"

"There were people that hated rock and roll, wanted to get an entire style of music banned. They called rock evil and sinful and claimed it was 'corrupting our youth'. Vincent figured they'd hate him no matter what he did, so he'd be extra outrageous and _really_ set 'em off. His fans liked the craziness, and made him really popular. He's been doing Alice Cooper for about fifty years now."

"Okay…" She wasn't satisfied with his explanation, it raised still more questions, but she was sure the answers would lead to even more questions. That was almost as frustrating this morning as it had been yesterday. She dismissed the matter irritably and selected a song pretty much at random. A slow, almost stately beat of drums and guitars led into the words:

Hello! Hooray!  
Let the show begin, I've been ready  
Hello! Hooray!  
Let the lights grow dim, I've been ready

Ready as this audience that's coming here to dream  
Loving every second, every movement, every scream…

As the last notes faded she said, "Wow. I wasn't expecting that."

He looked up from buffing his boot with a brush. "I think he'd be happy to hear that. Did you like it?"

"I think so. This is all so unfamiliar, it's hard to be sure." She grinned. "Guess I need to listen to a lot more music."

"All right, but could you hold off for a minute? I've got something to do." He put down the boot, picked his phone up from the table and made a call.

"Hi. Could I talk to Engineering?"

He listened to the phone and replied, "Thanks."

"Steve? Hey, this is Dan. Sorry to spring this on you, but I can't make it to work this morning."

"No, I'm okay, it's just — something happened yesterday, that I have to deal with."

"Yeah, I know, but I didn't get any notice either. Just sort of popped up out of nowhere." He shot Tovala a knowing grin.

"It's too much to get into right now, but I'll try to stop in this afternoon, and tell you all the details. Is that okay?"

"All right, thanks, I really appreciate it. Let everybody know I won't be there. Bye."

He shut the phone off, set it back on the table and picked up the other boot and brush. "There. Had to let 'em know I won't be at work this morning."

Words and definitions came together in her head. "Oh. Your job."

"That's right. I couldn't call before eight, because nobody would be there."

"Is taking the day off all right?" she asked, concerned.

He chuckled. "Yeah, they're a pretty laid-back bunch. Besides, I've been working there more than three years and only missed a few days. Everybody knows I wouldn't just ditch work without a good reason."

She smiled, satisfied, and found another song on the computer. He set back to work, humming along with the music, finished shining his boots, and sat on the couch, leaning over the back, facing her. They both enjoyed the music for a while, Dan making suggestions from time to time. Tovala seemed to be transported by everything she heard.

After a song ended he asked her, "Can you, um…create, the wedding rings we talked about yesterday? They'll expect me to have the rings."

"Okay." She held her hand out, gazed fixedly at it, there was a purple glow, and a pair of silver rings with sparkling clear gems appeared on her palm, one thicker and heavier than the other. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He took the rings, weighed them in his hand, held them up and looked at them intently. "What are these made out of, exactly?"

She was briefly surprised by the question, then thoughtful. "I don't know. I never thought about it before." He waited while she pondered the subject for a while. "I think they are not any normal substance. I think they're some sort of…programmable material?" Her hand went to her night-dress. "So is this, but it's a different type, like the wedding gown, and the clothes I made up yesterday."

"Smartmatter?" he murmured, his mind far away for a short time, until her puzzled expression registered. "It's from a book, The Summer Queen, by Joan Vinge. She thought up an active material made out of nanomachines, that can transform into anything you can imagine. She called it smartmatter, and it was the basis of all sorts of super-advanced technology. Very dangerous, if not kept stable. Like, blow-up-a-planet dangerous, if enough of it got out of control."

"I think…it might be something like that," she said slowly. "But, I don't think these items I've made are hazardous."

"Maybe the real thing doesn't work that way," he mused. "Or it's because they're small, and simple?"

"Possibly," she said uncertainly.

"What about your Astral Dress? Is it made out of the same stuff?"

"…Nnno, it's different. It can be reconfigured a little, but the power circuits can't be changed, or they won't work…and the other devices…" She gave him an apologetic smile. "It feels like there is much more to know, but I only get vague impressions."

"Hey, where _are_ your clothes? And your boots? They weren't where we left them last night."

"They…" She stopped, and considered how to put her notion of what had happened into words. "They're gone. I wasn't using them, or thinking about them, so they were…unmade? And, the material was put back in storage. At least, that's the best way I can explain it."

"Uh…okay." Her explanation raised more questions. He studied the rings again. "Is there a limit on how long this stuff can be held in a specific shape? Does it have to be kept under continuous control? Does it take energy to maintain its form, or only to change?"

"It has to be maintained, but there's no time limit. At least, I think that's how it works."

"Uh-huh. So, these are sort of temporary. We can go to a jewelry store and pick out some permanent rings later." He put them in his shirt pocket, then looked at her night-dress. "We should get you some regular clothes, too, that won't disappear when you stop thinking about them."

"That would probably be a good idea." She smiled. "And the thought of going out with you to get new clothes, I find very appealing."

Daniel groaned theatrically. "You want me to take you shopping. We'll have to use my credit card, of course. And here I thought you were different."

"Shopping…ah, yes." Her grin turned impish. "But are you _sure_ you don't want my clothes to disappear? You seem to like looking at me without them."

"Uh, hey, that's—"

She burst out laughing. "I'm teasing you again! You said it's okay."

He laughed too. "Yeah, it's fine. You just keep surprising me."

Her laughter faded. "Everything is a surprise to me. Everything is new. Every time I learn something I find more things I didn't know about. Especially when… I tried to learn about sex, while I was lying in bed. Some of the things I saw looked…very strange. I've got more questions now than before I started."

"Uhhh…" He had a sinking feeling. "You haven't been watching internet porn, have you?"

"I saw some," she admitted.

"Aww, jeez," he groaned. "Look, Tovala, a lot of that stuff is not, um, well, normal. Most people don't do most of those things. I sure don't!"

"Ah. I wondered. Okay, what kind of sex is normal? What kind do you do?"

"Nnnng—" He could not formulate a coherent reply, reminded yet again that here was a woman utterly lacking in social boundaries. An outsider altogether alien to our society who would do, and say, whatever popped into her head, blithely unaware that there were thoughts she should not express. He had about an hour to instill _some_ notion of restraint in her mind, lest she commit some ghastly _faux pas_ in public and torpedo their chances of getting anybody to help them.

She giggled at his unease. "Come on, I deserve to know _something_ , don't I? You know everything about me. Well, as much as I do, anyway."

"Uh, yeah, I, uh…well. I guess…you could say, what I want is, um, pretty simple."

"Simple." Her eyes still on his, she frowned slightly. "That doesn't tell me much about a subject I'm not familiar with." Her frown was compounded with concern. "Is there something you don't want to tell me?"

"Uh, no…I mean, nothing in particular…" He sighed, still awkward. "It's just…I don't talk about it much."

She was still watching him. "But…you _did_ talk about it."

"Only in general terms," he admitted. "Nothing…specific, or, about myself. I've just never been, comfortable, talking about that, is all."

"Well, now, that's too bad," she said, disappointed. "It would be really nice if someone could answer my questions, and help me understand…" She trailed off, gazing at him with a winsome, innocent smile.

He raised his hands to shoulder height in surrender with another nervous chuckle. "Okay, okay, I'll, uh, I'll…try."

When his first few false starts failed to provide her any useful information, Tovala stopped him."Here, I have an idea. I'll show you things I've got questions about on the computer, and you can tell me about them. Like, what is this?"

A video appeared, showing a young blonde woman wearing a filmy white nightgown, lying on a bed with red sheets. After a few seconds a muscular guy climbed in clumsily through a window, wearing flip-flops, plastic fangs, a long piece of black cloth hanging from his shoulders, and nothing else. He loomed over the bed, the girl opened her eyes and screamed. He mumbled something unintelligible — possibly due to the fangs — waved a hand over her a few times, she calmed down, and he started pulling her nightgown off.

Dan was laughing.

"Well, what are they doing?" Tovala asked impatiently.

He got the laughter under control. "Uh, that's some sort of vampire role-play. That is, the guy's pretending to be a vampire, and she's playing along. Vampires are a popular thing right now, so there are probably a lot of videos like this. I would hope some of them are better than this one."

While he was talking, the low-budget 'vampire' finished removing the nightgown (with some help from the girl), opened his mouth wide (almost losing the fangs), and chomped down on her neck as she waved her arms, kicked her feet, and moaned loudly. Thick 'blood' oozed out, looking suspiciously like tomato sauce. _Without_ garlic, one would presume.

Dan shook his head, still laughing. "Seen enough?"

"I guess so." She laughed with him, a little. "But, why pretend to be a vampire?"

"For the thrill, of course. Vampires are dark and mysterious, have supernatural powers, and live for hundreds of years. A lot of people find that exciting, in all sorts of ways."

"But, vampires aren't real, are they?"

He shook his head. "Nope. At least, there's no evidence they exist. Just a bunch of old stories made up a long time ago by superstitious people."

"Then, why did they make up those stories?"

"They probably saw something they didn't understand, and made up imaginary monsters to account for it. Then, other people heard the stories and added to them, maybe because of things _they_ didn't understand. The stories got told and re-told, mis-heard and mis-remembered, translated and mis-translated into other languages…the people who originally made them up probably wouldn't even recognize them now."

"Oh." That raised a whole lot more questions she would have to get answers for, but, later.

The 'vampire' had shifted his attention to her breast. Dan chuckled. "Hope he doesn't pinch her with those fangs. That would have to hurt."

The picture changed. Now a large man with numerous tattoos slapped and punched a tattooed woman, tore her clothes off, and threw her on a bed. Dan made a strained, growling noise.

"What are they doing? Is that…normal?" Tovala asked uneasily.

He found his voice. "No!"

"Oh, good. I wouldn't like that," she said with relief.

"Aaaaa, me neither." The woman was fighting back now, both of them hitting each other, and yelling.

Tovala was troubled, and confused. "Why are they doing that? I don't understand."

Well, _this_ would take some explaining. "If that's for real, it would be a serious crime, but…they had a camera set up to record it. And then posted it online, afterwards. I _think_ it's more role-playing. At least, I hope so."

The man had gained the upper hand, and was forcing the woman… "You mean, they _want_ to do that? _She_ wants to do that? What's _wrong_ with them?"

He shook his head again. "I don't know, and I don't try to understand it. One of my ex-girlfriends was into that sort of thing. Not _that_ extreme, but she wanted me to, uh…rough her up, when we, um… Anyway, she called me 'not a real man' because I didn't want to beat on her. I wouldn't change my mind, so she broke up with me."

She gave him another you're-not-making-sense look. "She left you, because you _didn't_ hit her?"

"Eyeaah, I don't get it either," he admitted. "I did find out a few things about myself, though. I find violent rape sex repulsive and ugly and…a turn-off, not a turn-on. I wouldn't pretend to like something I despise, just to get laid."

She looked at the screen again. "I don't want to see any more. What they are doing is wrong," she said decisively, frowning. The video closed. "Nobody should do that."

"I agree with you, but," he gestured at the computer, "they don't."

"Then they're wrong!" She would not be moved. "They should not do those things."

He nodded. "Most people would agree with you. With both of us. _But_ — if they both want to do that, and they're not hurting anybody else, do we have the right to make them stop?"

Tovala opened her mouth to say "Yes!" — and froze. After a long pause she admitted, "I don't know."

"Good answer."

She paused again, then gave him an uncertain smile.

He returned it. "I know exactly how you feel. You saw what they did, and you were disgusted, and offended, and you felt an immediate unthinking need to _make them stop_ doing those awful things."

She nodded. "Yes!"

"But when you _did_ think about it…"

She frowned. "It's not so clear any more. I still _want_ them not to do that…"

"You want to prevent them from doing what they want to do, to relieve _your_ discomfort."

"Oh." Her expression changed. "That would be…"

"We'd be denying their rights, when they're not doing anything to diminish our rights," he explained. "Millions — hell, _billions_ of people would agree that we should prevent them from doing something so offensive. Trouble is, you can't go part-way down that road. Stop them from doing their thing, then we find something else offensive and prohibit that, and then something else, and before you know it somebody is taking away _your_ right to do something _you_ consider perfectly reasonable. Like us. We're not married, and we slept together last night. There's a whole lot of people would find that offensive, even though we didn't do anything more than sleep. Hell, just being in my _house_ would offend millions of them."

"But that's not fair!" she declared. "You're just helping me. I didn't have any place to go until you brought me here. It's, it's…"

"It's none of their damn business, is what it is. But they'd _make_ it their business, if they could. The world is full of people that want to control everybody else's lives. That's why you have to be real careful what you say tomorrow. If the wrong people get offended about something, they could cause us all sorts of trouble. _Don't_ say anything about sex, or ask any questions. Okay?"

She considered his words. "Okay. Then, what would _you_ do about…that?"

He grimaced with distaste. "I wouldn't _do_ anything. We have to allow everybody's rights, even the ones we don't like. They can do what they want, and post it online, but I don't have to watch it."

"Oh." She looked at the computer, then back at him. "I've still got…more questions."

He sighed with resignation. "Bring 'em on. There's really nobody else you can ask."

Another video appeared. He instantly regretted inviting her to continue, and dreaded the moment when he would have to start talking, trying to explain… _that_.

"How about this one?" Her tone was back to merely curious. " _What_ are those things they're wearing?"

"It's…leather…" _A whole cow's worth, at least_ , he estimated. It was formed into thick collars with metal studs, arm bands, shackles, bizarre masks, one _exceedingly_ indecent corset…

He watched her as she observed the video with detached interest and asked, " _Now_ what are they doing?"

He groaned, just a little bit. "It…that's called, bondage. And, S&M. It's something just a few people do, and I'm not one of them. Seen enough?"

"I think so." The picture changed. "How about this?"

He was frozen with shock for a few seconds before he managed to blurt out, "Oh, _hell_ no! Shut that off, **_now!_** Delete it, and scrub every trace of it off the computer, and the network. Don't leave any hint anywhere that you ever looked at it!"

"What's wrong, Daniel?" she asked, confused. She quickly banished the video that seemed to be upsetting him so badly.

"It's — the girl. She's way too young to be doing that. Where did— No! Don't tell me. I don't _want_ to know where you found that… _thing_. Just, don't ever go there again, okay?" He didn't sound angry, not at her, anyway, but he was highly agitated.

"All right, I won't." He still looked worried, so she repeated, "I won't watch videos like that again, I promise. Not ever."

He forced a smile. "Good. Thank you. That would cause a great deal of trouble, for both of us."

She nodded. "I'll take your word for it, but I'd like to understand why. Will you explain it to me?"

"Of course." He spent a little while figuring out how to start. "When you were loading up on English last night, did you run across the word 'taboo'?"

"Yes. An action, or a subject, proscribed by social customs?"

"Exactly. What you found violated one of our biggest taboos, against…exploiting children. It's one I agree with. There are laws, too, so you can be thrown in jail for just watching videos like that one."

"The reason for it is because a young child is not prepared for sex. Not mature enough, physically or emotionally. There has to be an age limit, and our laws mostly set it at sixteen. Some people think that's still too young; others say it's cruel and unfair to make the kids wait that long."

"What do you think?" she wanted to know.

His expression hardened. "Children should not have sex. Sixteen might be too young, but in most states sixteen-year-olds can get driver's licenses and then, well, once they start driving they're pretty much free-range. Nobody's going to stop 'em from doing whatever they want. I guess setting it at sixteen is sort of a compromise between what some people want, and what's possible."

"That video was even more taboo, because it showed an adult taking advantage of a child. Watching that, or talking about it, or if somebody just claims you're the least bit interested… You're instantly presumed to be guilty, and even if you proved the accusation was a lie, it would stick to you forever. Just the barest hint would turn the whole world against us, and the Mayor wouldn't dare have anything to do with us."

"I see. That's why you were so…insistent, about getting rid of any evidence."

"That's right. It's not your fault you didn't know all this, but a lot of people wouldn't take the trouble to think it through. We'd be screwed." He went on, with less intensity, "It's because _that_ is not remotely normal. There are some degenerates that do such things, although it makes no sense at all to me. I don't understand _why_ they would, and…I don't _want_ to understand them. I don't even want to _think_ about them. And, I don't want to take _any_ chance that anybody could think I might _be_ one of 'em."

Another thought occurred to her and she frowned. "That's why you pulled away from me yesterday. You were treating _me_ like a child."

He blinked with surprise, and felt a pang of guilt. "Not…exactly… I, uh, I just, I, wasn't sure how much you understood, about, uh…"

"Oh." Her frown faded. "Maybe, you weren't so wrong, at that. It was…the me, I was then, there were a lot of things I didn't know. Now I know more. And, I understand, much better, what you said to me afterward."

"I'm still sorry I made such a mess of it, and hurt you, but, I just didn't think you were ready, for, um…"

Tovala tilted her head with an almost whimsical smile. "Daniel, do you think I'm a virgin?"

"What?!" His mouth stayed open, but nothing more came out of it for some time. Finally he managed, "I…have…no idea." Her head returned to vertical and she raised her eyebrows, prompting him to add, "Really, I don't have a clue."

"Neither do I. But you must have thought about it. I have."

He chuckled sheepishly. "Uh, yeah." There was another long pause. "If I had to guess…" He recalled her kisses, her teasing, her open sensuality, her eager response to his touch… "My guess would be…no."

"Well, you do have to guess. So do I. And, my guess also is 'no'."

"Uhh…huh. That's not really an answer, but I'm afraid it's as close as we're going to get for now."

"I concur." She was still experimenting with new words, it would seem.

"Even so, I just didn't think it was the right time, yesterday," he said defensively.

"Maybe not." One corner of her lips quirked up in half a smile. "Of course, I don't _remember_ ever having sex. I suppose, in a sense, I _am_ a virgin. Sort of."

"Well, I won't hold that against you," he said flippantly.

They both laughed, then she said, "I hope you won't treat me like a child any more."

"I won't," he promised. "If you think I'm not treating you right, tell me."

"Oh, I will, you can be sure of it," she said in a playfully warning tone. "And neither one of us will say any more about underage sex, right?"

"Definitely not!" he declared, but then made a sour face. "Although…some people might still be bothered because I'm so much older than you." At her questioning look, he elaborated. "I'm over forty, and you're under thirty. I think. Pretty big gap there, anyway."

"Will that be a problem?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. If you were _too_ much younger it would be a _big_ problem, but as it is, we're both adults. There shouldn't be more than a few grumbles. At least, I hope that's all."

"So do I." Then she added, decisively, "But I don't care what anybody says. You're not too old for me."

"You sure?" he teased. "Cause it means when you're ninety, I'll be over a hundred."

She tilted her head quizzically. "Maybe I _should_ check again, just to be sure." She leaned across for a long kiss, then smiled. "Mmmm. You'll do."

"That's it? I'll _do?"_ he protested. "Not really what I wanted to hear."

"Should I have said you _won't_ do?" she inquired innocently, setting them both to laughing, until she squeezed his hand and said, "I've got a few more questions."

"Go ahead," he said warily. Another video appeared, this one featuring two men. "I guess that one was inevitable," he pronounced with resignation. "Yes, some people go that way. Not many. Definitely not me!"

"How many are there?"

"Not as many as it seems. There are a lot of estimates, but the ones I think are honest say between two and three percent. Another two, three percent swing both ways."

"Are you sure? There are a _lot_ of those 'gay sex' videos," she pointed out.

He shook his head. "The internet is a very weird place, and it's not an accurate reflection of the world. People with, shall we say, _uncommon_ preferences share a lot of videos, way out of proportion to their actual numbers."

She did not find that a satisfactory answer. "Why?"

"They used to be persecuted for a long time, until they and their activists drew a lot of attention, gained support and got the laws changed. They got used to drawing attention, though, and some of them can't seem to stop. A few of 'em… Some activists centered their whole identity around The Great And Noble Struggle. Even though the war is won, they can't stop fighting the battles. Today, there are only a few bigots still trying to persecute gays, the laws are against them and they get smacked down. But, the activists have to see persecution everywhere, because they don't know who they'd be without it."

Her confused expression prompted him to add, "Sex is a subject that generates a lot of emotion, and very little thought. Most people believe their personal opinions are The One True Law Of God And Nature, and they viciously attack everybody who disagrees with them. It's best if you avoid the subject, or plead ignorance and pretend not to understand what they want."

"That doesn't sound fair," she said resentfully. "Am I missing something?"

He scowled. "No, you're absolutely right. It's not fair. They don't have any right to ask you about such personal matters, and then hate you for giving the 'wrong' answer. But, that won't stop 'em."

"There seems to be a lot of stuff I'm not supposed to talk about," she grumbled.

"I know, it's not easy. It shouldn't be too long, just until we can get a few things settled."

She smiled. "Getting married."

He nodded. "That, and getting some sort of solid agreement with the government, so they're not looking to arrest you on the least excuse. After that, you can tell anybody you want they're being a pain in the ass."

That made her laugh. "More slang? I can guess _just_ what it means."

He chuckled along with her. "Pretty much what it sounds like. You'll find that some folks just can't help being assholes." His humor evaporated. "And some of 'em seem determined to work at it. Try not to let any of them get to you."

She sighed. "This is all so new, and…and it _is_ a pain in the ass! I have to watch every word I say, every second, or people I've never even met will make trouble for me."

"Hey, it's not that bad. You just need to avoid a few subjects, and certain words."

"I wondered about that," she said emphatically. "Are there really words we are not allowed to use?"

His mouth took a wry twist and he acknowledged, "Yeah, there's a whole list of words that have been declared too derogatory and offensive to speak. Words about race, and sex, and religion, and 'alternative lifestyles' that 'offend' somebody or other. New words get added all the time, too, so a word that's fine today might be banned next week."

Tovala was disappointed to have her suspicions confirmed. "I have learned a lot about language since yesterday, and that does not make sense to me. Words are only labels, symbols we use to represent thoughts and ideas. Words have no significance of their own, and convey no meaning except what is understood by the listener. None of them meant anything to _me_ , at first. It seems to me, to ban words would not accomplish anything."

"You're right. Somebody finds some word 'offensive' and a lot of outrage ensues, it gets put on the ban list, and everybody's happy — except the _concept_ the word stands for didn't go away. People are still going to talk about it, so another word, or a couple of other words, get drafted and sent to the front."

Dan held her gaze until she nodded slightly, with a little sound that meant 'I get it, keep going'.

"The new word necessarily has the same _meaning_ as the old word, quickly acquires the same connotations, and before long becomes _verbum non grata_ itself. Yet Another new word is pressed into service, and the cycle repeats. Like — people with extremely dark skin. Originally they were called by the simple, descriptive term Negroes. That was corrupted to…another word, which was pretty much universally recognized as a malicious insult. Other terms came and went, like dark, darky, and colored people, and then for a long time it settled on black, until that fell out of favor. For a while it was African-American, but that didn't really work when talking about people from other countries. The latest fad is to lump together everybody not designated as white under 'people of color' which is misleading because light pinkish-tan is also a color."

"But 'colored people' is still considered offensive, right?"

"Yeah, a couple of steps below…that other word. It's a term that was used a lot, during a bad period in our history."

"Even though it's just the same words?"

"Those obsessed with such things seem to be very good at not noticing stuff like that," he observed in a very dry tone.

"So are they just…playing games with words? Changing the words does not change the concepts. What are they trying to do?"

"They're trying to be the Thought Police," he growled. "They want to keep people from having Wrong Thoughts, and _they_ get to define what's Wrong. Which always turns out to be everything they don't agree with."

He noticed the computer's clock. "Oops, it's almost nine-thirty. We've got to get moving." He reached for his boots.

"I've still got a lot of questions," she grumbled.

He didn't look up from pulling his boots on. "I'm afraid they'll have to wait. This is one event we can't be late for."

She sighed and stood up. "You're right."

Dan finished with the boots, and stood up too. "We should both hit the bathroom now," he advised.

She nodded, and headed that way. He shut down the computer and took his own advice, got his suit coat from the bedroom door, put it on, looked over his small collection of ties, selected one and returned to the living room.

Tovala joined him as he was tying it. "That looks nice."

"Thanks." The tie was a bright, almost electric blue, with groups of narrow diagonal black and silver stripes. He wrapped the end over, around, around, across and through in a full Windsor knot, then pushed and pulled at it to refine the shape.

She watched him curiously. "Are you ready?"

He got the tie settled to his satisfaction. "All set." He looked at her and chuckled. "You've got it easy."

Tovala smiled and said, "Adonai Maerek."

Her night-dress and slippers dissolved into purple light, and her Astral Dress formed in their place, exactly as he had first seen it. She looked a little different today, though; her fear and confusion had been replaced by determination. There was just one thing…

"Uh, Tovala, you can't change that way in front of everybody. Indecent exposure, remember?"

She gave him a saucy grin. "You don't seem to mind. I saw you looking."

He grinned back. "I don't ever think you're indecent, but some people will. Can you change your clothes in Cloak Mode, so nobody can see?"

She gazed at nothing for a moment. "Yes. I can do that."

There was something about her expression, some faint remnant of that grin… " _Will_ you? Every time?"

The grin returned in full. "Yes, Daniel. I'll be good."

He regarded her for a few more seconds. "Okay." His hands moved, touching various parts of his clothing as he mumbled, "Wallet, keys, phone, checkbook, pen…rings…anything else? No, that should be it…" His gaze sharpened a little. "Can you think of anything we're forgetting?"

"Me? No…"

"Then, I guess we're ready." He led her out the laundry room door, closed and locked it, picked up his helmet and sunglasses, and turned to the outside door.

"Jake?" He looked around.

She looked too. "Where _is_ Jake? I haven't seen him all morning."

"Not here, so he must be in the house. Probably sleeping in some weird place. Cats spend most of their time sleeping, and they like to crawl into and behind things. Let's go, while he's still there. I don't know how long we'll be gone, so I don't want to let him out today."

He closed the door behind them and they walked across the back yard, stopping in front of the garage, beside the motorcycle. He'd been too busy to park it inside yesterday.

Tovala turned, put her arms around him and held tight, trembling slightly. "I'm…a little scared. Why is that? What is there to be afraid of?"

Dan returned her embrace, disregarding the hard, lumpy armor. "Because our fate is about to be determined by somebody else? We think he's a good man, we hope we can persuade him to help us, but in the end our future is not ours to decide. That _is_ kinda scary."

"Yes…I think, that could be it."

They stood there for a minute or so until she lowered her arms. "We're wasting time. Delaying and worrying won't do us any good."

"You're right." He let go of her, stepped back and put on the sunglasses and helmet.

He took two more steps, got on the motorcycle, fished out the key and stuck it in, checked the odometer, then his watch. "I should stop for gas, too. We took a long ride yesterday, and it's getting low. We've got time."

He rolled and turned the bike around until it faced the road, started the engine, pulled the clutch, dropped it into first gear and announced, a trifle nervously, "Well…here we go."

Tovala floated up a few feet and vanished. "Here we go," her voice repeated from above.

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I haven't seen any of the videos portrayed in this chapter, but I am certain you could find something just like them somewhere on the internet.


	10. Wow, We're On TV!

**Wow, We're On TV!**

There was one empty spot in the row of motorcycle parking spaces along Third Avenue. Daniel backed his bike in, flipped the kickstand down, hopped off, stood behind it and took off his helmet. He looked around, then up. "Tovala?"

"I'm here," came from above, and to his left.

"Can you put this helmet where you put your sword, and, stuff?" He added hastily, "And bring it back, later?"

"Sure thing."

The helmet vanished, right out of his hands. "Wow. Thanks. Didn't want to carry it around."

"Why not just leave it on your motorcycle?"

He scowled. "Some asshole would steal it."

"Steal…oh. That's what it means."

"Didn't you already know?"

"I knew the _definition_. Now I know the meaning."

"Oh…" He walked west, into the large paved courtyard.

"There are people that would steal your helmet," her voice drifted along with him. "They don't have any right to, or need it, but they would just _take_ it, and not care how that affects you, or me… You were right. There are things about your world I do not like."

"There are things about it nobody likes. Even thieves don't like other thieves stealing from them."

"Now, _there's_ a way the world needs to be made better," she grumbled.

"A lot of people have tried," he told her. "It turns out, it's not so easy to stop the criminals. Some people want to take all sorts of drastic measures, but they never seem to work. Some countries have implemented extreme law enforcement, what we call a police state, where the government spied on everybody and made all their lives miserable, and even _that_ couldn't stop crime."

She was quiet for a long moment. "I'm beginning to see what you mean. Stopping criminals seems simple…"

"Until you have to consider the impact on everybody else. You can't just focus on _your_ intentions, and ignore the cost."

"Hmmm…" Her voice grew distant as she flew higher. "Are those the same police from yesterday?"

He looked around as he moved, finally spotting them as he got closer. "Yeah, that's them. I'll go say hi. Don't say anything they can hear, okay?"

"All right, Dan."

He pointed south, and up. "The Mayor should be somewhere in that tall white building. Why don't you plant some of your remote video devices around the windows and start looking for him?"

"Good idea. I'll be back in a minute."

He heard nothing more as he walked across to the three officers. "Mornin'." He shook Nelson's hand, then Morales's and Rozza's. "Thanks for being here."

They all looked around the courtyard and Morales asked, "Where is she?"

"She'll be here, at the right time," Dan assured them. "We've worked out a presentation— oh, our news coverage is here."

They followed his gaze to a black-haired Oriental woman wearing a blue blouse and gray slacks, and a dark-haired, bearded man in jeans and a black Iron Maiden T-shirt carrying a moderate-sized video camera, both turning their heads, searching for something. The pair were moving more-or-less in their direction, so he waited until they were about five yards away.

"Mornin', Ms. Chen." He held his hand out. "Thank you for meeting me. These are Officers Nelson, Morales and Rozza. They actually saw the event, but they've been ordered not to discuss it."

"Mister Evans?" the reporter asked, shaking his hand warily.

"That's right, Daniel Evans," he confirmed. "I was there yesterday morning, I saw the crater, and I guarantee I know more about it than anybody, except maybe these three officers and one other person."

"Who is that?" she asked.

"You'll see in a few minutes," he replied. "I apologize for being all mysterious, but everything has to be done just so, or we won't get a good outcome for anybody. This is a very unusual situation. The officers can tell you that, even if they can't disclose any details."

She directed an inquisitive look their way, and Morales said, "Right, unusual…like Ghost Peppers are hot!" Nelson and Rozza chuckled and made affirmative sounds.

Dan chuckled with them. "I'm pretty sure the Mayor will overrule that order, but we have to get him interested enough to come out and talk to us first. I don't know what kind of setup you need to do, so, just let me know when to start talking."

Sharon and her cameraman conversed in low voices as he pushed buttons and watched the display. He handed her a microphone and she said, "Check. Check. Check." Curious people took note of the camera, and the station logo, and drifted closer.

Dan moved away from the three cops. They wouldn't want to be on-camera yet. Reporter and cameraman nodded to each other and he hoisted the camera to his shoulder.

She backed off a few steps and raised the microphone. "This is Sharon Chen, Fox 5 News, here at the San Diego Concourse, talking to Daniel Evans. Mister Evans, you say you know what caused the Balboa Sinkhole?" She held out the microphone.

"Thanks, Ms. Chen." He smiled, a little nervously. "First off, it's not really a sinkhole. It wasn't caused by an underground collapse; it was smashed down from above, by something none of us ever knew was possible. I'm going to need a little help explaining how that happened, so everybody pay close attention. You're about to see something you'll find very hard to believe. I did, at first. But I promise you, every word we're about to tell you is the absolute truth." He looked upward and said in a lower voice, "Tovala? Now."

The air to his left rippled and a stunning woman with long bright purple hair appeared, wearing a purple, white and black dress with brilliantly glowing skirts, fanciful purple-and-silver armor, and a butterfly-shaped hair tie, hovering with her armored boots about five feet above the pavement. She smiled, and spoke in a sweet, powerful, resonant voice that reached at least two blocks in every direction.

 **"Good morning, people of Earth, and thank you for being here to see me. I am a stranger to your world, and alone. I do not know why I'm here, or how I got here. I do not even remember who I am. I don't know where I came from, except that it must be unimaginably far away, and I have no way to go back there. I seek only a place to call home, and live my life in peace. I hope you will allow me to live here. I have much to offer in return."**

She floated down to the ground beside Daniel, her armored gauntlets glowed and disappeared, and she took his hand. The small crowd muttered in confusion. Ms. Chen looked as bewildered as any, but gamely continued holding out the microphone.

In her normal, human voice the woman in purple and light went on, "I was fortunate enough to meet a man who was kind to me, and helped me. A friend, before I even knew the meaning of friend. He helped me make up a new name, to replace the one I have forgotten. He named me Tovala, and I'm happy to meet all of you. I hope to meet more friends, in my new life here."

Dan announced, "Tovala really did just fly down here, drop her cloaking field, and land right in front of you all. I'm sure most of you think it was a trick, an illusion, and we have to prove to you that it wasn't. She can do a lot of other things you'll find even more impressive. Wherever she came from, they've got technology far more advanced than anything we've ever seen."

Tovala stepped away from him. "Watch this!"

She soared into the air, stopped, and twirled, flinging her skirts out in a wide circle. Her boots were almost knee-high, over sheer black stockings that reached a few inches above her knees, topped with bands of purple lace. She stopped with a swish of fabric, posed dramatically, dove towards the cameraman and swept past, close above him. The crowd looked up in wonder as she flew and cavorted over their heads like a mermaid. She looped around a nearby tree, made another low pass, pulled up, hovered above them and used her Thunder Goddess Lite voice again. **"At one time, I must have known how this works. I don't have those memories any more. Daniel says it must be some sort of anti-gravity, and I think he's right. All I know is, I can fly, as high and fast as I want."** She swooped over the crowd one more time, flipped, flew back, and landed beside Dan, smiling.

He took her hand again and told them in his most imposing voice, "Yesterday morning, about ten-fifteen our time, in some star system many light-years away…" He paused for dramatic effect, and to draw in another breath. "… _something_ punched a hole in the universe and sent Tovala through it. That is what made the crater they're calling the Balboa Sinkhole. That's my best guess, anyway."

He gazed out over the crowd for a few seconds before continuing, "That is also her first memory. She can't remember anything before she found herself standing there, in the middle of a crater, on a strange planet she knew nothing about. That was where I met her. I thought she looked lost, and alone, and confused, so I tried talking to her, and within a couple of minutes she learned enough English to answer me. She asked me to help her, so I took her home with me, and spent most of the day teaching her about our world. She learns… _fast_."

"We both agreed the best thing to do was to tell everybody about her, so, here we are."

The reporter had recovered, at least partially. "Mister Evans. You're asking us to believe this woman is from outer space?"

He nodded. "I know, it's a lot to take in. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and the people who claimed it did have all turned out to be nuts. That's a deep hole to have to dig myself out of." He gave the camera his most convincing look. "But there just isn't any other explanation. She's got technology far more advanced than anything we've ever seen, and there's just no place on our planet it could have come from. If anybody on Earth had this kind of technology, our world would be a very different place."

That got her to thinking. "What kind of technology? Besides flying."

"Well, she can amplify her voice, like you heard a minute ago. She learned English in _one day_. She can make herself invisible again. She can make objects appear, and disappear, right before our eyes. She can put up a force shield that stops bullets. She can neutralize electricity for at least a hundred yards around her." He gave the cameraman a lopsided grin. "That would kill your TV camera. Not a good demonstration. She made my motorcycle stall, and stopped my watch for about ten minutes yesterday."

The reporter shifted her attention. "Ms…Tovala? _Are_ you from another planet?"

"I do not know," she said mournfully. "It is as if…my very existence began yesterday morning when I opened my eyes, and found myself standing in an unknown place. Before that, there is nothing. There is not even emptiness, because that would be _something_. I do not know any better way to describe the feeling." She was squeezing Dan's hand, hard.

He returned the squeeze, to comfort her. "I think she's trying to say there is no _there_ , there. Not only nothing, but no place for anything to be. A time that did not exist for her."

Her grip relaxed a little. "That is closer to what I feel, but not precise… Sometimes, it seems that your language does not have quite the right words. Perhaps I need more experience with using them."

Sharon asked, "What about your own language? Does it have the right words?"

Tovala shook her head slightly. "If it did, I do not remember any of them. The only words I know are the ones I've learned here."

Dan spoke up before Ms. Chen could ask another question. "Tovala downloaded practically the whole English language from the internet last night. If she can't find the right words, there aren't any."

The reporter tried another approach. "Where did you get the…clothes you're wearing?"

"I do not know that, either. This is what I was wearing when my memories began. Daniel wanted us to make a dramatic entrance, and thought this would get people's attention."

The crowd had grown to twenty or so, watching in fascination. About half were holding up cell phones.

Her words jogged Dan's memory. "Have you found the Mayor yet? Can you see him?"

"Oh! Yes." Her gaze swept up the white building. "He's looking out the window, right there." Her attention returned to the reporter, and the crowd. "I want to invite the Mayor to join us. I'll be right back."

Tovala flew to a window about half-way up the building, waved cheerily to the people inside and spoke in her Minor Thunder Goddess voice. **"Good morning, everybody! Hi, Mister Mayor! Sorry to just pop up like this, I know you're a busy man, but we'd really like to talk to you. Would you please give us a few minutes of your time? I assure you it's about some very important matters."** She Thunder-giggled. **"And I promise it'll beat sitting in some boring meeting!"**

She hovered there, listening for a short time.

 **"My name is Tovala,"** she Thundered, **"but who I am is going to take a _lot_ of explaining. Will you come outside, and listen? There are already three police officers here, to see to your security. There's a TV news reporter, too."**

She listened again.

 **"Yes, I'm really flying. That's part of what I want to talk to you about."** She smiled, looking nervous but hopeful. **"Please, Mister Mayor. I really need your help."**

She went on smiling. There was a vague impression of movement inside the window that went on for some time.

Her smile suddenly brightened. **"Thank you, Mister Mayor! This won't be a waste of your time, I promise."**

She performed a perfect reverse swan dive, flew down and landed beside Dan. Unable to contain herself, she hugged him. "He'll talk to us! He'll be here in a few minutes."

He returned the embrace, and her smile. Her armor was still lumpy, and he still didn't care. "That's great. _You_ did great."

She let go and turned to the reporter, still smiling. "Let's wait for the Mayor. He'll probably have a lot of the same questions you do, and that way everybody won't have to hear them twice."

Ms. Chen only looked stymied for a second before facing the crowd. "What do you think? Do you believe her, or not?"

There was a low mutter and grumble, then one man spoke up. "No way. And she can't fly, either. There gotta be wires." He peered at her, up, and around. "…somewhere."

Tovala shot him a snarky grin. "I flew all the way here from Daniel's house. Those must be some _awfully_ long wires."

"None of _us_ saw you do that. We don't have to take your word for it," he said stubbornly.

She was dismayed, and a little shocked, at being all but called a liar, but recovered quickly. "All right then," she rose into the air and landed right in front of him, "find the wires, smartass."

Dan groaned, and put a hand up to his forehead. "Tovala, we need them to _like_ you…" he grumbled plaintively.

The reporter motioned with her head, and her cameraman focused on the action.

The heckler was a dark-haired man, a few inches taller than Tovala, in a blue pinstripe suit. He reached out, hesitantly at first, then with determination, passing his hands above and around her. A woman stepped up and did the same. He started circling her, and others joined in. Within a minute, she was surrounded by people waving their hands about.

She interrupted them with a snide remark: "Find any wires?"

"Not yet," he said resentfully.

She chuckled. "No matter how long you search for wires that do not exist, you will never find them."

"What about under your feet?" he demanded, with mulish persistence.

"Feel free to look," she told them, and floated up until her feet reached shoulder height.

They did, fumbling around her boots and clutching at her glowing skirt. Her critic pushed sideways, trying to set her swinging from 'the wires' and found that moving her foot had no effect on her overall position. He tried dragging her down, and moved her less than an inch.

She fixed him with an ironic look. "Pulling my leg, now? Didn't you accuse me of pulling yours?"

He let go, embarrassed.

"Here's something else." She did a forward flip in midair to open some distance from them, then vanished. Her voice issued from the empty space. "I'm still right here, you just can't see me. Daniel calls it 'Cloak Mode' because of…Star Trek?"

Dan had moved closer, and now explained, "It's another function of her force shield. I think it bends light around her. If you look carefully, you can just barely see something, sort of like heat ripples. Some of our scientists have managed to bend light on a small scale, but nothing like that."

"Watch this!" Her voice came from a slightly different place and she was abruptly _there_ , hovering about five yards from the cameraman. He adjusted slightly to center her in the frame but she was gone again, then back, then gone, as she switched 'Cloak Mode' off and on every few seconds. It made for an impressive and somewhat unnerving demonstration of Clarke's Law — no one could tell whether she was using technology or magic.

Dan stood beside and below her. "That's probably enough. The Mayor should be here any minute. You wouldn't want to confuse him, blinking on and off like a Christmas tree."

She gave him a weak smile, and remained visible. "You could be right. I guess…I'm a little nervous."

He returned her a better one. "Lucky you. I'm a _lot_ nervous."

Hers got wider. "Aawww. Want me to hold your hand?"

"That would be nice."

She landed beside him, and did. She looked at the tall white building, and around at the crowd. The cameraman lowered his camera, walked over to the reporter, and pushed buttons while they both looked at it, talking in low voices.

Tovala fidgeted. "What's taking so long?"

"He's the Mayor. He can't just hop in an elevator and walk out the front door; he has to have an entourage. Takes a few minutes."

Less than a minute later they saw people approach the glass doors, open them and walk out. The Mayor was accompanied by two men, and a woman Daniel recognized as a City Council member. The news team separated, the cameraman hefting his camera back into position as the reporter headed their way.

Tovala gave the group a brilliant smile. "Good morning, Mister Mayor, and thank you again for agreeing to talk to me. Allow me to introduce Daniel Evans, the man who's been helping me since I…arrived here, yesterday. I'll need his help, explaining some things."

Dan held his hand out. "Mister Mayor."

He shook it firmly. "Mister Evans." He turned to Tovala, and shook the hand she held out after she let go of Dan's. "Ms. Tovala." He added, curious, "Is that your first, or last name?"

"Right now, it's my only name. Daniel and I made it up together, because I can't remember any other name. I do not remember anything before yesterday."

"Is that why you want my help? To find out who you are?"

She shook her head sadly. "No, I'm afraid you can't help me with that. My past is lost to me, and there is nothing any of us can do to get it back. I need your help to start a new life here." She looked at him closely, to observe his reaction. "In this new world I have barely begun to understand."

His response was a sort of amused indulgence. "I'm sure it seems like—"

She stopped him, not rude, but resolute. "No! I mean that quite literally. I appeared here, on your world, yesterday morning. How? I do not know. Why? I can only guess. From where? I don't have a clue. Daniel and I have been trying to figure out some answers, but for the most part, all we have are questions."

Dan asked him, "If she's not from somewhere _else_ , some other planet, if she's spent her whole life here on Earth — where has she been all these years? Why has nobody noticed her? She's kind of hard to miss."

The Mayor chewed that over before inquiring, "How did you meet her?"

"I found her standing in the middle of that crater they're calling the Balboa Sinkhole."

 _That_ got His Honor's attention. He regarded both of them keenly. "What do you know about the Balboa Sinkhole?"

"I don't actually _know_ very much," he admitted. "I got there about ten minutes after the fact, I think. But these officers," he waved at Nelson, Morales and Rozza, standing nearby, "were there when it happened."

Nelson said, "Mister Mayor." The other two repeated the words.

The Mayor's attention became still more focused. "You actually _saw_ what caused the sinkhole?"

Nelson nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Did you report it?"

"Yes, sir." he replied, with a certain air of satisfaction.

"Then _why_ ," the Mayor said with considerable annoyance, "can't _anyone_ tell _me_ anything about it?"

"After we reported it, we were ordered not to discuss it, sir."

"Who gave that order?" he asked, with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Lieutenant Hernandez, sir." Nelson's face, and his voice, were completely neutral, betraying not a hint of expression.

"I see." The Mayor's expression boded ill for Lieutenant Hernandez. Nelson almost pitied him.

Almost.

His Honor's attention returned to the matter at hand, and their name-tags. "Okay, then. Officer Nelson, Officer Morales, Officer Rozza, you are hereby ordered to report everything you know about the Balboa Sinkhole to me. Is that clear?"

Nelson grinned. "Yes, Your Honor." The other two officers echoed him. They all looked at each other, and Nelson gave a resigned nod.

Daniel and Tovala had already heard the tale, but they both listened with interest. Her hand found its way back to his.

Nelson began. "Right, so, I was patrolling in Clairemont, and I saw something in the sky above and east of me. I still don't know what it was, and I can't think of a better description than something Mister Evans here said to me — 'sort of a distorted ripple in the air'. It looked about the size of a tire, and maybe twenty or thirty feet up, but it's hard to say for sure. It was like, your eyes don't want to focus on it."

The Mayor listened intently and the news crew caught it all with their camera and microphone.

"So, it went mostly east, and I followed. It sort of wandered around, like it was looking for something. After a few minutes Officers Morales and Rozza pulled onto the road, because they'd been watching the thing too. It was hard to follow, because we had to stay on the roads and it didn't, but we did our best. We turned south on Ruffin Road and it circled around behind some buildings west of us, it stopped, swelled up into a huge silver ball sunk half-way into the ground, and then disappeared, leaving a cloud of dust."

"Officer Morales found a driveway leading the right way, we drove around behind the building, and saw there was a big hole in the ground, right where the ball was. We were just pulling up beside it when both cruisers stalled. Neither one of them would start again, no lights, no buzzers, nothing. I tried to call it in, and found the radio was dead too. So was the computer. Everything just stopped working."

He checked his audience, starting with the Mayor, and found them all paying close attention.

"Well, that's all we know about the sinkhole, but there's a lot more to the story. By that time enough of the dust had settled, and blown away, that we could see there was somebody in the center." He gestured to Tovala with his right hand, palm-up. "Her. Dressed just like she is now, only she was holding a sword too."

The Mayor looked at her suspiciously, then back at Nelson. "Wait a minute. Are you saying she _caused_ the sinkhole?"

He shook his head. "No, sir, I'm just saying we saw her standing in the middle of it when the dust cleared. I don't pretend to know what that means."

His Honor turned back to Tovala, even more suspicious. " _Did_ you cause that sinkhole?"

She shook her head. "I do not think so. I don't know of any way I could have caused it, but…I can't be sure. You see, the very first thing I remember is opening my eyes, to see rubble and ruin all around me, and only featureless gray around that. It was like waking up, but with no memory of going to sleep before. As if, until that moment, I did not exist."

Dan suddenly felt a little guilty. "Wow, that's right, I never asked about what happened to you before I got there. I didn't… there was just so much else going on, I never thought of it. I should have."

The reporter seized her chance. "Yes, tell us about it, from your viewpoint. What were your thoughts?"

Tovala got a faraway look in her eyes and said uncertainly, "That is not easy to describe. My memories from that time were formed in a very different state of mind, one that is all but impossible to put into words. One I can only define in terms of what it _wasn't_. I had no concepts to form thoughts, no words to give them structure. All I had was an inchoate turmoil of unsettled emotions."

Ms. Chen was persistent. "Okay, then, what were your feelings?"

"Looking back. I think the word that best sums it up is 'dreary'. I was in a desolate place made of odd gray lumps, with an empty gray background. I had no idea what any of it meant, or that it _should_ mean anything. I was lost, and lacked even the idea of finding myself. I did not even realize that I felt lost, because I had never known anything else."

"Go on," the reporter encouraged her.

She nodded. "Soon, I could see farther, and more clearly, and I began to see colors for the first time. Now I know, that was the dust clearing away. I was still trying to get used to that when I heard noises behind me. I discovered the concept of movement, and turned around, and these three police officers were there, in the distance. They made more noises, and then moved towards me."

Nelson picked up the story. "I thought she looked suspicious, and she had that big sword. Plus, it might have been dangerous for _her_ , to stay in there. We called out to her, to put it down and get out of the hole, and she didn't comply, or answer us, so, we went to her. She ignored all our instructions and still wouldn't talk to us, and then she raised that sword to Officer Rozza. It was _glowing_."

Tovala explained, "They approached me, making loud noises, trying to intimidate me, as I now recognize their behavior, and…I found out what fear felt like. Lifting the thing in my hand, and pointing it at them, seemed to be what I needed to do, but they became even more menacing."

Nelson spoke again. "Officer Rozza tried to fire his Taser, but nothing happened. Mine wasn't working either. She was still threatening Officer Rozza, so Officer Morales shot the suspect with her sidearm. It didn't appear to have any effect on her."

Morales said defensively, "That's right, she was threatening Officer Rozza with a deadly weapon. Shooting was justified, and…I _know_ I hit her! I was right on target, center of mass from ten feet, there's no _way_ I could have missed, but somehow it just…didn't do anything. She pointed the sword at me, I got some distance and shot her again, and a…a sort of a purple light came out of her sword. It burned my hand, and I dropped my gun."

She held up her right hand, showing off a red cross-hatched diamond pattern across her palm and up her fingers; every detail of a pistol grip was imprinted on her skin in reverse. "They said it's only a first-degree burn, but it hurt like the devil for a minute."

Tovala gave her a contrite, guilty look. "I'm sorry, Officer Morales. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I don't even know how I did that. It was like, something else did it, from inside my head, because your gunshots scared me. I'm really sorry."

"Eahh, it's okay. It only hurt for a few minutes, and, well, I tried to kill you." she said dismissively.

"Thank you. And, you were just doing your job. Protecting another soldier."

Nelson said, "Officer Rozza and I put our Tasers away, drew our guns and shot her, um, a few times. She pointed that sword at us again and we all retreated to cover behind Officer Morales's squad car. She unlocked their M-4 and took a couple of shots, the purple lady there swung her sword at us, and chopped the car in half. Then, we took cover behind my car."

Tovala looked guilty again. "I apologize for that, too. I still wasn't thinking, just reacting. I didn't even know what would happen. After that, I stopped following those impulses. I didn't want to cause any more destruction. I felt something else, too, and now I know it was despair. Why was I there, trapped in that dismal place, attacked by those awful people? Would it always be like that? Forever? Was there no way to make it _end?"_

Rozza put in, "Yeah, after that she just stood there, looking miserable. I started to feel sorry for her. A little, anyway."

Dan squeezed her hand, and gave her an encouraging smile. "That's about when I got there. I was riding east on Balboa and saw the pavement was busted up, so I stopped, and then my bike stalled, and wouldn't start. It was completely dead. I pushed it into a parking lot, and saw that it was on the edge of a big hole in the ground. It looked _wrong_. It didn't look like it had blown up, or just fallen in. It looked like everything had been scooped out, run through a blender and dumped back in, and…out there in the middle was a woman in a fancy purple dress. On the other side were two police cars, complete with police, and they shot at her a couple of times."

Morales chuckled. "She moved her sword again. I was afraid she was going to chop that car in half, too."

Dan chuckled, too. "Anyway, I thought it over and decided to go talk to her. I wanted to find out what was going on, and the police would have just told me to buzz off. I asked her who she was, and why they were shooting at her. She turned to face me and raised her sword to a defensive position, the cops shot at her again, and this time I saw flashes of purple sparks in the air beside her."

Tovala nodded. "I heard someone behind me, and turned around again. This one seemed to have no weapons, but still I was afraid. Everyone I had seen had tried to kill me. I expected him to do the same. What weapons might he have that I could not see, or detect? He made sounds, too, like the others — but for the first time, I heard them as words. I asked if he was going to try to kill me, like the others, and he told me he didn't want anybody to hurt me. Those were the first kind words anyone ever said to me — and in that moment, _everything_ changed." She gave them a sweet smile. "I learned what hope feels like."

Rozza objected. "Wait a minute, why did you understand him, and not us?"

"I've got an idea about that," Dan offered.

Nelson snorted, and told the Mayor, "This guy's got all _sorts_ of ideas. Thing is, most of 'em make sense. All of them are at least interesting."

The Mayor nodded. "Go ahead."

"I think she's got an incredibly advanced computer, running some sort of Universal Translator program. It took a while to analyze our language, but by the time I got there it had worked out enough to start accumulating a vocabulary. The more words she heard, the more she understood, and the more she could say."

His Honor thought it over, then asked the three officers, "What do you think? Do you believe all that?"

Nelson answered for them. "I don't know. Some of it sounds kind of crazy, but after what we've seen… I gotta say…maybe?"

He considered that, too. "Hmmm. I'm not saying I believe any of this, but, please, go on. Finish your story. It _is_ interesting."

Dan grinned. "Fair enough. I offered to help her, and she accepted. She told me about Officer Morales's gun, and the car, and I asked her about the force shield that stopped bullets from hitting her."

One of the men with the Mayor had been scowling, increasingly impatient, and now turned to him. "A force field? Don't you think this has gone far enough?"

His Honor returned a quelling look, but waited while a propeller-powered commuter plane roared past, less than a mile away and only a few hundred feet up, on final approach to the airport. When the noise faded he replied, "Possibly. _But_ — I just agreed to hear them out. Do you want me to break that agreement?"

He went on scowling, but said nothing more.

Tovala smiled at them again. "Thank you, Mister Mayor. And, all of you, please have patience. I know some of this must sound strange to you, and hard to believe, but it _is_ what happened to me yesterday. We do have some evidence, and we will show you what we can, and do our best to answer any questions you have. I assure you, I'm telling you the truth, the only truth I know. I'm trying to recount everything the way I remember it, from the beginning, and what it was like to experience it. Will you let me tell you the rest?"

There was a generally positive response from their audience, and the Mayor nodded.

"Thank you, everyone. All of this is new to me; I do hope I'm making a good impression."

Most of the crowd made more encouraging noises, with a couple of male hoots from the back.

She took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. "I was aware of the force shield, and the bullets hitting it, but there were so _many_ things I was aware of, without understanding them. The shield didn't really register as something important until Daniel brought it to my attention."

Her smile returned. "He helped me. He talked to me, instead of shouting at me. He asked me questions, and listened to my answers. He explained some of the things that had happened to me. He tried to understand me, and what I was going through."

"He asked me to extend my shield around him, and 'lose' the sword, so I would look less threatening. I found that confusing, until he told me that it was slang, and he really just meant for me to put it down. When I thought about that, I suddenly knew how to store it away, out of sight. That surprised him."

"Then he surprised me. He stepped out between me and those other people, and waved at them, and I realized that he was keeping them from shooting at me. I felt…something very good. I wanted to hold him in my arms, so I did, and he held me, and that felt even better. Then those people yelled at me again," she finished resentfully.

"He was actually yelling at me," Dan said.

Nelson nodded. "Yep, some dumbass just stepped right into our line of fire and started waving at us to stop. I wasn't sure he even knew what it meant, but…we weren't making any progress with her. He hollered something, and then they both started walking toward us, _without_ her sword."

Tovala said, "He held my hand, and we walked to the people who'd been shooting at me. One of them yelled again, that we were close enough, and then _ordered_ me to tell him my name. That's when I discovered that I didn't know my name. I hadn't thought about it before, but when I did… I knew I should _have_ a name, but when I tried to think of it, I just got nothing. Then he asked Daniel for his name."

"So, I gave him my driver's license, and he checked it." he told them.

Tovala continued, "They asked my name, again, and where I came from, and I couldn't answer them. They got kind of frustrated, Daniel asked them to let him try, and they agreed."

"He asked me questions, too, but his were much more helpful. Instead of repeatedly asking me things I still didn't know, he tried to find out what I _did_ know." She sighed. "Which wasn't much. Only what I had seen, and felt, in those few minutes I'd been aware of my own existence. They started to get frustrated again, Daniel asked me if I could think of anything else, and I said that I must be not from your world, because nothing here made any sense to me. Officer Nelson got something out of his belt, and said I had to go with them. Daniel told me they were going to 'arrest' me, and explained what that meant."

Officer Nelson looked a little embarrassed. "Hey, we weren't getting any answers, and then she said she was from outer space. Everything she said sounded crazy. I figured the best thing to do was to take her downtown, maybe get her…evaluated." He chuckled nervously. "Instead, she gave us the Evil Eye, kissed Mister Evans here, and took off."

Tovala grinned. "Like this." She shot straight up into the air and out of sight.

She took most of them by surprise, but Dan was expecting it, and watched her flight intently. The cameraman struggled to keep her in-frame, and everybody else just watched her go; Officers Nelson, Morales and Rozza with something of a long-suffering, here-we-go-again air.

Daniel pointed at City Hall, towering above them. "How tall is that building?"

After a longish wait the City Council member gave him a distracted answer. "Twelve floors." She went back to looking up.

He mumbled to himself as the crowd recovered from their surprise and started talking, soon reaching a consensus that the strange woman 'took off like a rocket!'

By this time Dan had completed his mumbling and announced, "A _fast_ rocket. She took off at about eight G's."

Ms. Chen had been feeling ignored and a bit frustrated for the last few minutes. "Why do you say that?"

"Yes, why?" the Mayor wanted to know. "I'm not saying you're wrong, but how did you reach that conclusion?"

He gave them a knowing grin and said, "Calculus."

Any further explanations were interrupted by Tovala's return. She swept in from the east, past where he had parked his motorcycle, set down lightly beside him and took his hand.

She smiled at the Mayor. "You see, it wasn't their fault. They tried to do their job, but they never expected me to do that."

He regarded her thoughtfully. "I can see that. How fast were you going?"

She shook her head. "…I, don't really know. As fast as I wanted to go. I wasn't thinking about _how_ fast."

He looked at Dan. "You were saying?"

He launched into a detailed explanation. "Speed, distance, time and acceleration are all interdependent. If you know any two, you can use calculus to derive the other two. It can get complicated, but a few cases reduce to remarkably simple equations. One of those cases is the first second after an object starts accelerating. Time, distance and speed all begin at zero, and at the end time equals one. That makes some factors drop out during integration because they evaluate to zero, or one."

"Now, we all saw Tovala pass the top of that building in about a second, and you," he nodded to the City Council member, "told me it's twelve stories, making it about a hundred and thirty feet tall. Right there, we have time, and distance, so we know she flew at an average speed of a hundred and thirty feet per second, starting at zero. That puts her final speed at two hundred and sixty feet per second. That's…almost a hundred and eighty miles an hour. Assuming constant acceleration, anyway. It looked constant enough to me."

Dan looked at the Mayor, who nodded.

"Since V-zero equals zero, and T equals one, that means V-one equals A, making her acceleration two hundred and sixty feet per second squared. One G is thirty-two and a bit, so two hundred and sixty is just a hair over eight G's. That's a lot. If she weighs a hundred and thirty pounds, eight G's would make her feel like she weighed over a thousand pounds."

"But wait, there's more. We're all feeling one G just standing here, so accelerating straight up at eight G's would subject her to _nine_ G's. Fighter pilots and astronauts train for years to withstand nine G's while sitting in specially designed seats and wearing pressurized flight suits that force the blood from the lower body back up where it belongs. She did nine G's standing up, wearing a dress."

He looked around at their varied expressions. "I'm sure you're all wondering how she could do that without getting mashed flat, and I think the answer has to be anti-gravity. And, did you notice, there was _no_ back-blast when she took off. No sign of rockets, jets or impellers; she just — _went_. Zoom. Here."

He tugged upward on Tovala's hand, she nodded and took flight again, gliding above the crowd.

"If that's not anti-gravity, what is it?" he challenged them.

"Wires!" the man in the pin-striped suit called out, then laughed. Apparently he couldn't resist such a perfect straight line.

Tovala laughed, too. "You looked. You didn't find any. Think of something else."

"Yeah, I gotta call that one busted," Daniel agreed. Everybody laughed, and he waved towards Tovala. "Anti-gravity or not, we have to find some way to account for everything about her flying around. Not just what we observe, but what we _don't_ observe." Tovala landed beside him and took his hand again.

"There are no wires attached to her, and nothing to hang them from if there were. Whatever allows her to fly doesn't make any noise, or disturb the air around her, or produce any effects we can detect even when she flies right over our heads. There are no limits to how far she can fly, or how high. Other than running into things, of course. Our current knowledge of science and technology does not provide any way to explain all of those facts."

He looked at the man beside the Mayor. "That's just the flying. She can do other things beyond our understanding, like the force shield you don't believe in."

"Here, let me show you," Tovala said, releasing Dan's hand as she rose a foot off the ground and floated towards him. "Try to hit me."

His expression turned uneasy, and embarrassed. "No, that's okay, I didn't mean—"

"Try," she insisted. "Prove to yourself that the force shield is real. I won't take offense."

He took a step back, stuck out a hand to fend her off, and was shocked when _something_ stopped it a foot from her arm. Unable to find words, he pushed against it with both hands.

"Go ahead, punch, kick, whatever you want. You can't break through," she assured him.

Dan announced, "I've seen her shield stop bullets. I'm certain it will stop bigger stuff, too, like cannon shells, missiles, and bombs. Oh, and lasers. Our weapons are useless against her."

Tovala turned to the crowd, pleading, "You don't _need_ to use your weapons against me. I am not your enemy, and I don't ever want to be. If your government attacks me, I will only defend myself, and they can stop at any time. Even if they choose to _make_ themselves my enemies, I will not be a threat to you."

Before anybody else could say anything, Dan went on, "We've all seen what she can do. Wherever she came from, it must be a civilization far more advanced than ours. I don't have any idea how _much_ more advanced, though, and she can't remember. A thousand years? Two thousand? Who can say? How long will it take before _we_ invent force shields and anti-gravity?"

The Mayor had been thumping his fist experimentally on her force shield while he listened. When Dan paused, he asked, "Do you expect me to believe all that?"

Being very careful not to vent his frustration, he said, "I hope you will at least consider that it could be true. I've done a great deal of thinking about this, and these are the best ideas I can come up with. Whatever we believe has to account for _all_ of the facts, and everything we can deduce from them."

He waved at Tovala, now surrounded by curious people. "Tovala is a fact. The crater is a fact. Three witnesses attest to finding her in it. The divided police car is a fact. The same witnesses saw her chop it in half with a glowing sword from a hundred yards away. We've all seen her fly, and you've checked her force shield yourself. We can't deny there's _something_ unusual about her, and I can't explain those facts in terms of anything we understand."

Something he said had gotten the Mayor's attention. "I keep hearing about a sword. Where is it?"

Tovala turned to him. "Daniel asked me not to bring it out. He's afraid it would make me look threatening, and scare people."

"Well, I'd like to see it. Can you go get it?"

She glanced uncertainly at Dan. He returned an equally uncertain look, but nodded.

"Okay. Everybody stand back. I don't want anybody to get hurt."

The few people still groping at her shield backed away. She dropped to the ground, put her right hand near her left hip, and said, "Sandalphon."

She swept her sword out and held it up, pointing at the sky. It looked exactly the same as the last time he'd seen it. The crowd made a collective exclamation of surprise, followed by a confused gabble. Cell phones were held up higher.

"How did you do that? Where did it come from?" the Mayor demanded, as surprised as anybody.

"I do not know," Tovala admitted.

"You keep saying that. I'm getting a little tired of 'I don't know'," he grumbled.

" _You're_ getting tired? How do you think _I_ feel? I want answers even more than you do, and I _know_ I'm not going to get any." She sounded more discouraged than irate.

"Hmm." It wasn't an apology, but sounded affirmative. "So, what does it _do?_ Besides chop cars in half?"

"I don't want to do _that_ again, but there was something I noticed just before Daniel talked to me. Watch this."

She lowered her sword and drew its immaterial tip across the pavement, effortlessly cutting a shallow gouge in the solid concrete. A plume of dust puffed out around the point of contact, accompanied by a grinding, scraping noise. She raised it a few inches, careful to keep it away from her feet, or anyone else's.

"I think it will instantly cut through anything it touches, including curious fingers," she warned them. "I have this vague impression that I received a lot of long and… _emphatic_ safety lessons about it."

People laughed, a little nervously. The Mayor held his hand out. "Could I see it for a minute?"

She considered, then held it out to him, still point-down. "Yes, Mister Mayor. Be very careful, and don't touch anybody with it, or yourself."

He gripped it just above the guard, and she released it to him. The instant her fingers broke contact, the glowing edges blinked off.

She blinked, too, in surprise. "I…think…that must be a safety feature. In case I drop it, maybe."

"Or it's taken from you." He adjusted his grip and took a couple of practice swings. "It's not as heavy as it looks, but that doesn't make it _light_. You don't have any trouble handling this?"

"No, none. It feels…right. You have learned the sword?" The question felt right, too, for some reason.

"Just a few lessons. A completely different style, and I haven't picked one up in years." He swung it again. "It does come back to you, though."

"I find it so," she agreed. "I don't remember learning, but I know how to use it."

"Hmm," he repeated, then held the sword out to her. "How _much_ do you know, but not remember?"

When she touched the pommel, the solidified light making up her sword's edges flicked on again. She stepped back and twirled it around, settling her hand in _just_ the right position, then said, "How much? I think…this."

Tovala bowed to the Mayor, struck a formal pose with her sword raised, and let out half a breath. Everybody backed another step away from her, as if sensing what was about to take place.

She began.

For half a minute she stepped, swirled, stooped low and stretched high, performing an elaborate _kata_ accompanied by the sharp metallic clacking of her boots on the pavement, her sword in constant motion, blocking and cutting down twenty or more imaginary opponents, forehand, backhand, right-handed, two-handed, left-handed, and reversed. She moved with unnatural speed and perfect economy, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next, ending with a flourish and sword-salute to her audience.

The crowd had grown to over forty as more people trickled out of nearby buildings; after a few seconds of awed silence, they started applauding her beautiful, graceful, deadly dance. She smiled bashfully and bowed again.

Daniel Evans cheered with the rest. He knew just enough about martial arts to be impressed by the bare glimpses of her abilities he'd caught yesterday, but she surpassed anything he could have imagined. No Black Belt he'd ever seen could come close.

She looked at him, around at the gathering crowd, and back to the Mayor. "Do you need to see any more?"

His attention seemed to return from some distant place. "Ah, no, I think that's enough. Very impressive."

"Thank you." She whisked her sword around to her left hip again and it was gone. She took three steps, to stand beside Dan. Her strenuous demonstration had left her breathing just a bit deeper than normal.

"That was beyond impressive, that was incredible." He was as awed as anybody. "I think you might have a few, uh, _upgrades_."

Dan turned to the Mayor. "Pretty substantial sword to just vanish into thin air, wasn't it? And, no, I don't know how she did it or where it went. I've made a few guesses, but there's no way to know if any of them are even close to right."

"You do present a good case."

"I should hope so. We've been working on it since yesterday." He flashed a snarky grin. "Of course, it does help that we're telling the truth."

"Just what are you trying to accomplish here?"

"You've seen what she can do. I'm sure there's a lot more we haven't seen. People were going to find out about her, and then everybody would want to _use_ her. Especially the government. They'd try to bury her in some top-secret bunker somewhere and deny that she ever existed. I brought her here to forestall that option. _Nobody_ can make her a secret now."

He frowned with disgust. "Of course, they'll still want to lock her up 'for the public good' because she's 'too dangerous' to be free."

He turned to the crowd. "Tovala hasn't done anything wrong. She only defended herself when people she'd never seen before threatened her, and tried to kill her. I don't think we should throw her in jail unless she actually commits a crime. How about it? Does she deserve to be treated like a criminal because some politicians and bureaucrats are afraid of what she _might_ do? Is that what we mean by freedom, and civil rights?"

Their consensus was somewhere between **No** and **Hell No** , with only a few dissenters.

He spoke again to the Mayor. "We should consider something else. She came from a civilization far more advanced than ours. Are they looking for her? If they are, if they figure out what happened to her and trace her here, how do we want them to find we treated her? As a person, with rights, or not? What might they do to us, if we abuse her?"

"Mister Evans—"

Dan held up one hand. "I know I can't convince 'the government' to leave her alone, but maybe I can persuade one person _in_ the government that trying to put her in prison would be a big mistake. That's the second reason we're here. I've brought our problem to you, in the hope that you'll give her a chance. She only wants what we all want: a home, her freedom, and the legal protections we take for granted. In return, she promises to obey our laws and be in all ways a good member of our society."

"She _wants_ to cooperate. She wants to share her advanced technology with us, help us figure out how it works, and contribute to our world in any way she can. But not as a prisoner. Not as a slave. They can't sell her the polite lie of 'protective custody' either, because the only thing they could 'protect' her from _is_ the government!"

"But there's another problem," he said gravely. "Poor Tovala is in our country illegally. It's not her fault; she was dumped here without her consent by a force beyond her control." He chuckled darkly. " _Deporting_ her would be an interesting exercise, seeing as we don't have a clue where she came from, or any way to send her there if we did."

"Is she requesting asylum? That's a Federal matter, and there's not much I could do to help her with it," said the Mayor.

Dan shook his head. "No, her being illegal is too convenient. It's leverage that can be used against her. They'd never give it up by granting her asylum. Some people won't believe that she can't remember the secrets of her advanced technology, and _will_ believe they can force them out of her."

Tovala took a step forward. "Fortunately, Daniel has thought of a way to solve that problem."

She rose a yard into the air, vanished, then reappeared a few seconds later looking much different. The crowd made a collective 'Aaahhhh' sound of approval, men and women alike captivated by the exquisite vision, if for different reasons. The news cameraman zoomed in on her, and cell phones were held up higher.

Tovala hovered before them, smiling radiantly, glorious in the resplendent white wedding gown she'd created, along with the 'accessories' Daniel had found for her — long white silk gloves, a white pearl necklace and matching pea-sized pearl earrings, a fine white veil held in place by a jeweled silver tiara, sheer white stockings, and dainty white high-heeled shoes. The shining purple hair flowing down her back added just the right touch of color through her nearly transparent veil.

She settled to the pavement, and Dan stepped forward to take her hand. She turned her most dazzling smile yet on the Mayor. "Mister Mayor, we would like to get married, right now. Will you please help us?"

His Honor's political instincts were impeccable. He stood there with a smile fixed on his face, hardly seeming to react at all.

Dan didn't give him time to do much else. "This is the third reason we're here. We know there's an office, and clerks, for marriage licenses, but they'd insist that she fill in every blank on all their paperwork, and give them information and documents that she doesn't have, and can't provide. She doesn't know when she was born, or where, who her parents were, her ethnic background, her medical history, or…or _anything_. They'd wave their forms at her, and not even talk to us unless we got all the right little boxes checked off."

He raised his voice, playing to the crowd, and the camera. "So, we turn to you for help. I ask you as a citizen, a voter, a taxpayer, as one of your constituents — save us from the petty tyranny of the bureaucracy, exercise your authority on our behalf, and grant our request. Let us be married."

"I promise to take care of her. I'll give her a home, provide for her needs, teach her our laws, and help her fit into our society. All we want from the government is a marriage license, and I'll pay for it. I brought my checkbook."


End file.
